Kaltbluetig: In Cold Blood
by Jadeblueafterglow17
Summary: An ailing Mulder faces torture at the hands of a serial murder from his profiling days. Can Scully save him in time?
1. Chapter 1 The Hunted

**Title: Kaltbluetig "In Cold Blood"**

Reviews appreciated, Flames extinguished.

Disclaimers: I do not own the X-Files or any of its delicious characters. I am simplty doing my part to keep the show alive in our hearts and minds forever more. So Chris Carter and 20th century Fox thank you for I want to believe with all the dibs to fanfiction writers out there, I assume with those gracious compliments to your screenplay you wish us to carry on. Ergo...please don't sue me you can have them back, I'm just borrowing them.

Chapter 1

Washington D.C. - Two weeks before Thanksgiving

Office of Fox Mulder & Dana Scully

There wasn't any way to get the office any warmer, even the portable heater under his desk seemed to be blowing cold air. Short of setting a fire in his filing cabinet, he was still shivering involuntarily.

He hated being sick, he likened it to being forced to watch the Teletubbies with his partner s nephew. Easily as painful, illness was something no grown adult should have to suffer through...ever.

Agent Fox Mulder's usually tame, regulation length, chestnut brown locks looked a little more askew than normal. Mulder was an obliviously handsome man, with a boyish grin and soulful hazel eyes, he was reduced to a crumpled lanky frame of wrinkled designer suits, a red nose only Rudolph could envy, and bewildered appearance.

Regardless of the temperature in the near arctic outdoors, perspiration slightly dotted his pensive forehead as he sat at his desk.

He could hear footsteps approach his office, he counted them as the taps hit the cement basement floor. He didn't have to look through the small plate of glass on his door to know who was now headed in his direction. He had come to know what those heavy footfalls represented.  
>Assistant Director Walter Skinner walked down the hall to Mulder's office. He could distinctly hear Mulder's hacking cough as it echoed through the narrow corridor.<p>

"Agent Mulder, are you trying to develop your own tropical climate zone in this office?

"And a cheerful good morning to you too, sir." He Replied as he tried mockingly to stand at attention, but wavering as he stood, he realized quickly his intentions and what had been communicated from his brain to his body did not create a synapse.

"What part of "take your ass home" did you not understand?"

"I think specifically the part involving my ass sir. I'm quite partial to knowing its appropriate location at all times."

Skinner's eyes narrowed as he gently shoved Mulder back down into his chair.

"Everyone in this building has taken a vote, and either you leave or they leave. They are wagering about how long it will take before someone finds you passed out on the sidewalk since your partner is not here to make sure you do intelligent things, like stay home when you're sick.

They don't want anything to do with you" he continued.

What else is new? Mulder mumbled under his breath.  
>Skinner placed his cool, heavy hand on Mulder s forehead with an audible slap nearly knocking Mulder out of his seat with the unexpected contact. His skin felt very warm and dry.<p>

"Open your mouth!"

"What for?"

"So I can take your temperature."

"Where in the hell did you find a thermometer in this building? Is that one of Scully's secret stashes? I swear that woman . . ."

"Open."

"I don't have a fever. I took some medicine before I came in to work." he whined as Skinner grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved the digital thermometer in his mouth.

"Are you going to give me a sponge bath too, Skin-  
>Man?"<p>

"Call me that again, and I'll shove this thermometer in a less user friendly place. Now close your mouth."  
>Mulder adjusted the thermometer and sat quietly for about 15 seconds before it started beeping, as Skinner took it out of his mouth.<p>

"102.3 Skinner could hardly contain the exasperated sigh. You ve got a high fever. Get your things and go home."

" I just got here, and I'm broke. Calling a cab is not an option. This stuff my doctor gave me damn near put me in the poor house. It makes me see little scantly clad women dance the cha-cha on my desk. And you know...that one over there is pretty hot, so, I think I'll just stay here, You can't beat that kind of free entertainment value. "

"I know you have money Mulder. He tugged on the wrinkled shirt Mulder had evidently slept in. You obviously don't spend it on dry cleaning, if you limit your porn dollars I'm sure you can muster up enough taxi fare to Alexandria. You are feverish, and hallucinating, you need to rest.

"How do you know I have money? he asked as his voice slurred minutely under the influence. I really forgot my wallet today, and it took an enormous amount of energy to get here."

"That should tell you something Agent Mulder. Get your crap together, I'll take you home."

"I've got things to do. Remember, we still have plenty of mutant killers to hunt down. I promise to stay in my own little basement ice-box of an office and try not to infect the masses. Besides it's just a cold, not the black plague."

"Mulder, you've been sick for days and you're just getting worse not better. You need to see a doctor or at the very least stay home until you feel better."

My doctor is on vacation he whispered to no one in particular.  
>Mulder you are going home. He said with finality.<p>

Skinner looked at him seriously for a moment, waiting for the argument he was sure was coming. What he saw made his throat constrict a little tighter. As his superior, Skinner was not supposed to let human trivialities phase him, but somehow Mulder always seemed to get under his shell. He hated to see his best profiler out of his element, and as his friend he hated to see him in this kind of obvious distress.

Mulder was staring right through him, his eyes like glass. His clothes hung on the frame that usually fit their athletic owner. He wasn't hearing anything Skinner said, he was lost in his own thoughts, just attending without comprehending.

This man was very ill. He needed someone to take care of him, but everyone who could fill that need was gone.

It would seem that even his partner, and confidant had abandoned him for the simpler pleasures he would not allow himself to enjoy. When there was no argument about going home he closed the files on Mulder's desk, and laid a hand on his shoulder snatching him from his feverish daze.

"I will not have you spreading your cooties to everyone in this building. So this is your reprieve, curb service to your apartment." He continued.

Mulder picked up a slightly used tissue from his desk and blew his nose. Skinner's face contorted like a three year old girl who was just forced to lick a frog.

He grabbed two prescription bottles from his desk, and shoved them in the pocket of his trench coat.

"Are you going to carry me up to bed and tuck me in?" His voice rattled with a husky tone of congestion.

"Cut the crap Mulder! Let's go!" Skinner grabbed Mulder's closed leather case.

With a touch of a button, Mulder turned his computer off, and slowly, and seemingly without purpose, he shuffled out of his office as it was pitched into darkness with the flick of a switch.

Richmond near Alexandria VA

Not quite cold enough for snow, tiny sleet pellets dashed through the air sliding like cold teardrops on the car windows. Clouds huddled together in the sky as if trying to keep warm in the near absence of afternoon sunlight.

The ride to 2630 Hegal Place was near silent except for the intermittent crackle of an intruding voice from the car radio.

The sleet had nearly ceased falling as Skinner crossed on-coming traffic and pulled into one of the rarely available parking spaces at the front of Mulder's apartment complex.

Mulder had begun a light doze as his head lay against the frosty window. Skinner looked at the man asleep next to him. He looked so peaceful, and exhausted he hated to wake him. A known insomniac, Mulder took to sleep like a fish to a frying pan. Mulder s mouth hung wide open, a little bit of drool sliding from his mouth onto the door frame below. Skinner scrunched his nose at the thought of what dangerous contagion could be now staining his car s interior.

Skinner cleared his throat, and received no response. Mulder began to mumble to himself, and didn t seem to be waking up. He tried again in a deeper voice, shaking Mulder s shoulder to wake him from his slumber.

Agent Mulder, you re home.

His eyes flashed open and he seemed disoriented with his surroundings. Once he got his bearings, he rounded up his belongings and open the handle on the door. Skinner lightly grabbed his arm.

"I don't want to see you anywhere near the office until you've fully recovered. That means no fever, no cough, no sneezing. You are not to call, fax, e-mail or contact the office until you are your bubbly, warm, self again. And if I catch you at that office you'll be suspended without pay. Am I clear?" Skinner's voice never wavered, his eyes focused, staring at the weakened man beside him. The threat was an empty promise. He needed Mulder in working condition, and if this was the only way to assure it could happen, threatening him would have to do.

Mulder nodded his head regretfully and exited the vehicle.

Just as he was about to close the door, Skinner sneezed, quickly covering his mouth with his hand.

Skinner looked up at him accusingly, as Mulder shrugged his shoulders. If Skinner was coming down with what he had, Mulder would be on his shit list for the rest of his career.

"Thanks for the ride."

"Get out of my car, Now!"

Mulder smiled with nearly all thirty-two teeth showing, his eyes dancing like a little boy who'd just received a secret decoder ring message. He exited the vehicle, into the brisk 36 November air and climbed the steps to his apartment complex entrance.

He fumbled with the keys as they jingled in his hand, the visible heat radiating from the top of his uncovered head like steam.

Skinner watched him enter the door, and wave as he entered the building.

He stared at the tall, lanky, ailing agent as he disappeared from sight. Skinner sat staring at the closing door for a few moments. He wondered if the man had more food in his apartment than the last time he'd checked up on him. Mulder, it seemed, had more money than time, or necessity to take care of himself. He remembered the bare cabinets that donned Mulder's apartment after the death of his mother eight months ago, and wondered if his kitchen contained those same cans and expired Chinese food.

For an instant, he felt as if he should get out and make sure Mulder made it to his apartment okay. . . but only for an instance. He put the sedan in "drive" and slowly pulled away from the curb against traffic as an oncoming black four-door SUV nearly hit him. Skinner looked at the emotionless face of the driver.

"A-hole!" He mouthed soundlessly with the window rolled up. The car immediately took a turn into the alley between the two apartment complexes.

Skinner eyed the car suspiciously, glancing at his watch. At that moment his stomach reminded him he'd missed lunch. He turned up the voice on his radio and headed back to his office.

Well what you think? I actually started this story years ago and I finally finished. What should I do to my poor delicious Mulder now?


	2. Chapter 2 Captured

Chapter 2

Mulder walked into his apartment, reached into his pockets, removed his office keys, wallet, and badge and dumped them in a basket on his coffee table. Next he took out his prescription bottles, and tissue before tossing his coat on the sofa.

He instantly heard a thud as his cell phone fell out of the pocket and bounced under his coffee table. He slipped his shoes off beside his table and meandered into his bedroom shedding one article of clothing at a time as he leaned down to look at the temperature setting on his new thermal blanket.

Thankfully he'd forgotten to turn it off, so he increased the setting to high.

Mulder pilfered through his hamper for his comfortable plaid flannel pajama bottoms and gray T-shirt. He sat down on his bed, his teeth beginning their own non-melodic rhythm, chattering when the cold clothing touched his emaciated body.

He got up to look at his thermostat. It registered a balmy 77 . He felt his head with the back of his cold hands.

"If I could ever get rid of this fever, . . ."  
>He went into his kitchen, retrieved two additional prescriptions from the pantry, filled a glass with water from his refrigerator door and strolled back to his bedroom with his four medication bottles.<p>

"Dr. D. K. Scully, take as directed every four to six hours for nausea. He looked at another bottle. "Take every four to six hours as needed for fever; take every twelve hours with food for pain; -well, might as well toss this one. He thought as he remembered the last meal racing towards the porcelain gods at 2, 4, and 6 a.m.

Take this medicine every four hours and complete prescription dosage in seventy-two hours."

"Damn Scully! When am I supposed to sleep, or eat taking all this crap?" He swallowed each pill individually, took a swig of Hydro-tussin , and placed the bottles on his nightstand.

". . . like I could do either, anyway; The woman I love, who doesn't know I love her, leaves me here to suffer and die from a drug overdose, while she gets to play connect the freckles with her face on a tropical island." He continued to ramble on as he settled upon his bed.

"What are you gonna do on a beach besides order a few too many mimosas and hit on the cabana boy? You can't even get a tan. Who goes on a vacation with their mommy anyway." He said to no one in particular.

He stared at the mirror on his solid oak dresser drawer. "Wouldn't you rather go with your handsome partner, with puffy inflamed eyes, skin the complexion of oatmeal, hair slimed with perspiration, a body coursing with a virus that might make me drop dead at any second, and enough mucus to fuel a mucus powered 87 Dolorian for the next year?" he sighed heavily.

"No wonder they sent me home."

Mulder looked at the clock on his nightstand. The green digital numbers, so bright he was sure the numbers 3:22 were permanently burned into his retinas.

He immediately pulled his comforter over his head, thankful he recently traded his waterbed for a mattress. He coughed, wheezed, and hacked until his body gave in to sheer exhaustion and allowed him to drift off to a dreamless sleep.

4:47 p.m. EDT (Eastern Daylight Time)

The sudden silence in the room was threatening, overtaking the entire apartment.

It was too quiet.

Quiet like the absence of sound in the woods when a hunter lurks nearby; quiet like the outdoors during the approach of a rogue summer thunderstorm. There was no ticking watch, no cars on the street, no sound of the wind that carried the season's frozen chill with it, just unabashedly the most deafening quiet there ever could be in a suburban fourth floor apartment complex.

Mulder was abruptly awakened instantly fearing for his life as he found himself straddled by a big blurry figure and his arms were forced beside him. Once subdued, his shirt was ripped from his body like he was being attacked by an angry tiger, his mouth suddenly stuffed with a cloth and covered with tape. His sight now blurred with sleep and a drug induced stupor, his visual images moved much faster than his brain could process, a kind of fast forward nightmare.

He was pulled from his bed. His torso hit the carpeted floor with a thud. When his eyes finally focused, he saw two men who could easily pass for professional wrestlers on steroids. His hands were tied in front of him with some sort of itchy twine.

His attackers wore black leather gloves, but nothing else about their clothing was special. Mulder pondered that there was nothing to disguise the chiseled features of his attackers.

It was obvious they didn't want to leave fingerprints, but being seen by their prey didn t seem to bother them.

He looked into the cold, steely eyes of his attackers wondering who they were, and who would be so bold as to strike in this manner, unless they planned to kill him.

Mulder struggled against the pressing weight of his attacker. With every ounce of remaining strength he rocked his body and maneuvered his legs kicking the chest of the man above him. He was rewarded with a fist approaching his eyes at lighting speed.

He felt the goose flesh rise all over his body as a perceptible click and crush signaled his jaw suddenly no longer wanted to hold his lips together. The sound it made his stomach feel queasy, a sound he knew would echo in his memory each time he opened his mouth.

One punch, then two punches, and then the trickle of blood from the corner of his eye.

Mulder turned his head, slightly squinting through rapidly swelling lids at his clock. It was now 4:49p.m. He could see the numbers wavering in and out of his line of vision, as though he were just under the surface of water.

He felt a dull throb overtake the sensitive tissues of his face. He was beginning to lose consciousness. His body was dragged across the floor and thrown into the frame of his door.

He stumbled to his hands and knees, and held on to the plush carpet fibers. The taller man pulled him up to a semi erect position by his thick, brown hair.  
>Mulder was amazed and puzzled to see his oak dresser coming towards him repeatedly as his head made contact adding to his agony.<p>

He reached up with his bound hands and grasped his now bleeding face, and saw his rich red blood all over his hands.

Mulder reached for the wall. He tried to find something tangible or anything to defend himself with . . . unsuccessfully, as his red fingerprints smeared down the wall. He didn't have the strength to retaliate, but by God he was going to leave as many clues as he could.

Mulder could hear the men talking. Straining as much as he could he was unable to discern what they were saying. He could hear them rummaging through his apartment. There was only a cacophony of ringing echoing through his skull. He lay there motionless, hoping they would take whatever they were looking for and leave him be.

One of the men picked him up, believing him to be unconscious and dragged him down the hallway, and walked away from him. Mulder slowly crawled, eyes swollen shut, heart pounding in his ears, calm in spite of sheer panic for his life into the den. He fell to rest just near his coffee table.

His mind frantically reminded him of the thud his cell phone made as it landed on the den floor. He saw what looked like his cell phone, reached for it, and tried to grasp it with his bound hands. He tried to decide if he should call 911 or his partner. He knew that neither would probably arrive in time to save him.

He pressed and held the number two button on the phone as the phone began to dial. It went directly to the home phone of his partner Dana Scully. He tried to scream, but the tape over his mouth and the lack of cooperation from his broken jaw made him sound like nothing more than a muffled background noise. That noise was more than enough to let his attackers know that he was very much awake.

For his reward, he felt a kick in his back, as the phone was ripped from his clutches and flung across the room ending with a crash.  
>"I wish I could just kill you now punk." The attacker picked him up by the face crushing Mulder's jaw in a vice-like grip with his bare hand.<p>

He dragged him by his neck.

Mulder heard the click of a switchblade being flicked. His hands were cut loose from their binding as he dropped to the floor. For just a moment he felt a sigh of relief as he pondered if they were going to leave him be.

The sudden burst of pain in the back of his thigh snatched that idea right out of his head. A muffled yelp escaped his lips as he rolled back and forth on the wood floor writhing in pain. Warm blood slithered from his leg and into the tiny cracks in the wood flooring.

His attacker removed the knife slinging the blood throughout the room, and stepping on Mulder's leg to increase the blood flow.

"What'd you do that for? Now he'll bleed to death before we take him in!"

He launched the bloody knife into the center of his coffee table.

"Just pain...no real damage, something to get this fucker's attention."

Mulder's leg ached and throbbed, but he could feel the distinct sensation of something being tied on his thigh.

Tears of pain welled up in his eyes. He was so exhausted and disoriented; he couldn't feel anything but the pain, the weakness and the warm sticky life oozing from seemingly ever inch of his body. He closed his eyes desperately trying to surrender to the cataleptic darkness that threatened to consume him.

Mulder felt large hands grip his throat, and winced slightly as he felt the warm leather of another set of hands hold his hand at the wrist and press it against his table.

He watched in horror as the larger man took Scully s hammer and slammed it into his hand. When she had brought the hammer over to hang a picture in his den a month ago, he never knew such an endearing act would turn into a painful weapon.

A scream he didn't know he was capable of making escaped his lips, and he wondered if his nosy neighbor from below would be pounding on the ceiling soon to complain about the noise. No such luck.

His hands began to swell, but, it didn't matter he couldn't move it anyway.

Mulder almost relaxed as his arms were tied behind his back with his newly acquired duct tape. Darkness ensued when a burlap cloth bag fell upon his naked shoulders.

Only three seconds passed before an all too familiar pain exploded in the back of his head. White spots dotted his vision, followed by blackness, as dark as the night sky. He collapsed onto the hardwood floor.  
>His last conscious thoughts were of the beautiful woman he believed he would not live to say goodbye to.<p>

Cancun Mexico 3:47p.m.(MST)Mexico Central Standard Time

Dana Scully lay in her jade green bikini in a hotel provided lawn chair under a shady umbrella. Her slender shapely frame drew the attention of nearly every man that passed by.

Her mother lay face down beside her in the sun. "Dana dear, did you want to try the snorkeling? Its' such a pretty day don't you think? Didn't the concierge say that the tour leaves at 5:15? I hear that the water off shore is still fairly warm and ..."

Scully stared at the serene blue water a few feet in front of her. She was consumed by her thoughts. The pit of her stomach, felt like, for a moment, that she'd been stabbed. An overwhelming sick feeling permeated her senses.

"Dana? Are you listening to me? Dana?"

"What? Yeah mom, I'm sorry, I need to go make a phone call." She said as she donned her chiffon wrap skirt and headed towards the hotel lobby. The heels of her new mules tapped furiously on the concrete surface.

Her mother watched her disappear into the hotel doorway, instantly knowing what her daughter had on her mind.

"Fox Mulder you are one lucky man..." she sighed. She lay her head back down appreciating the warm sun on the back of her legs.

Dana Scully pushed the button for the elevator, it immediately opened nearly stealing her breath when a man hastily exited the interior. She pushed for the fourth floor. Her Mulder-Alarm was in full blown disaster mode.

When the doors opened, she strolled slowly, and then stopped mid way to her room.

Dana what are you doing? You're on vacation, work can take care of itself. She said out loud to herself.

She turned back towards the elevator. Still, the sick feeling persisted. She sighed and headed into her room, engaging the door with her token keycard.  
>She picked up her cell phone, and pressed the number three button on her phone. She was greeted with an automated voice.<p>

"Hello, 'Fox Mulder'...is not available . . . " she Disconnected the from that call and hit another button which dialed his cellular phone. She was immediately greeted with a fast busy signal.

She hit the number four button and rang to Agent Mulder's home phone.

"We're sorry, this number has been temporarily disconnected . . . please try your call again . . ."

Agent Scully began to realize that her ill-gotten feelings were a pretty fair indication that something was not quite right. It seemed as if her partner had suddenly dropped off the face of the Earth. He had somehow convinced the phone company to participate in one of his classic "Mulder Ditch" episodes. She dialed the office of their immediate supervisor.

"A. D. Skinner's office"

"Kim, This is Agent Scully, Is the Assistant Director available?"

"I thought you were on vacation."

"I am."

"He isn't here at the moment. He had to run an errand."

"I'll try him on his cell."

"Actually I don't believe he has that with him, it was rather spur of the moment; he was taking Agent Mulder home." She said in an almost musical tone.

"Why is he taking him home?"

"Agent Mulder was very ill. He walked in looking like death warmed over, we were all scared to death he was going to infect us with one of his x-file mysterious plagues. He s been sick a long time now, but I'm sure you already knew that.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Scully retorted.

"Well, you are his partner... Aren't you? Shall I have him return your call?" she smirked.

"No, thank you." Scully said through gritted teeth hanging up the phone.

Bitch." They simultaneously bellowed on the phone. Scully donned her sunglasses, satisfied that Mulder was being taken care of, she returned to the elevator.

Location Unknown Time Unknown

Pain, cold, nausea, that was all his world was consumed with. It was the shivering that brought him back. He was so cold. The first thing that hit Mulder as his mind began processing, was a wave of nausea that made him swallow hard to contain his stomach contents.

He opened his eyes but could see nothing though he wasn't sure if it was his vision or just that he was in a dark place. His head pounded and ached. It made him dizzy.

He tried to lift it, but a near fatal flash of white accompanied by piercing pain made him lower it again instantly. The left side of his face felt tight and itchy, and he realized a dried substance seemed to cover that side of his head. He realized almost immediately it was blood, his blood, and he was now hanging suspended by his wrists.

End Part I 


	3. Chapter 3  Prisoner

**Chapter 3: **Prisoner

Disclaimers in part 1

**Time Unknown Location Unknown**

Cold. Pain. Darkness, again.

Mulder believed he was actually opening his eyes. His right eye was so swollen, even if it were open it would be nearly impossible to gain a measure of daylight. As his mind slowly returned to conscious thoughts, he felt the cold fire streaming from his suspended arms.

Sending the message to his brain to move his wrists only ensued in excruciating pain. Whatever was tied on his wrists was razor sharp and digging into the tender flesh.

His memory did not fail him to realize he should not attempt to lift his head just yet. If the swelling in his eye and the constant dull throb in his head was any indication he was suffering from quite a concussion.

He swallowed the accumulating taste of copper in his mouth and was surprised when he didn t gag. He then tried to wiggle his feet. His legs were like dead weight, numb and cold. His ankles seemed to be tied the same way as his hands; they were pulled taut to the floor. He was so cold, he wondered if he had any clothes on at all.

Agent Mulder coughed repeatedly trailing with a pain filled moan at the end of each spell. In the near distance he could hear the sounds of water dripping onto metal and the faint sporadic sound of a woman s scream that sent a painful chill down his spine awakening his worn out muscles.

"Oh God! Is Scully here? Where is here?" he listened intently holding his breath, straining to hear the sound in the near distance.

The sound echoed again, and with it carried a bone chilling scream, that wrapped him in goose bumps. This time it was a man s scream.

"Where in the hell am I?"

He tried to produce enough motion to swing his body back and forth. As he swung his frame forward he felt nothing but the slithering tear of his flesh at his wrists and ankles, and the sudden stabbing pain of the small of his back crashing against something damp, hard and very cold. Vainly he tried to peer through the covering over his eyes. His mouth was still taped over. He relaxed his eyes and tried to remember what transpired to get him where he was right now. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and felt the labored breathing that accompanied it. He knew he was in trouble either way.

{He saw himself sitting on the edge of his bed, consuming the medicine Scully prescribed for him. He looked at the clock on his night-stand, the numbers illuminating 3:14p.m. He laid back into his bed looking at the pale clammy reflection staring back at him in the mirror, pulled his comforter up to his neck, and quickly drifted off to sleep. His visions flashed quickly as he remembered being brusquely awakened by his shirt material choking him, and someone holding him down in his bed. Punches landed furiously to his face, his blood smeared over his hands, the pain in his thigh, his fingers being smashed to dust, the pain in his head, his neck, his shoulder. Oh what the hell had he gotten himself into now. Then darkness.}

He tried to scream, but the tape and throbbing jaw thwarted any efforts to do so. He slumped his head forward, his mind conjured up visions of beautiful fire and ice - his Scully.

"She was on vacation, she must be still there, please let her still be there, and safe." He pondered.

He thought about the last time he saw her face, more than 5 days ago if his biological clock and his stomach were any correct indication.

_Friday, 126 hours before Mulder s abduction J. Edgar Hoover Bldg. Office of Fox Mulder & Dana Scully_

Agent Mulder sat at his desk, with a box of tissues near his latex glove covered right hand. He felt his nose start to twitch as he tried to brush the sensation away with the sleeve of his light grey shirt. His face near his nostrils was tainted red from constant wiping and irritation. He d been trying unsuccessfully to piece together burnt files and information from a not-so mysterious office fire two years ago.

Without warning he sneezed launching the frayed ash covered paper particles fluttering about his desktop.

"Damn it!" he bellowed as his door creaked opening slowly.

He peered through his titanium rimmed glasses glancing up to identify the intruder. With a quick head to toe cataloging glance he returned to his work.

Fox Mulder was suddenly startled by the ring of his desktop phone.

"Mulder." He answered.

"Oh, Agent Mulder I didn t know you were in yet. I'll come to your office. I'll be down in 5."

Mulder stared at the dead receiver If you didn t think I was here, Skinner then why in the hell did you call me? he thought to himself

The sound of healed shoes approached his desk. He looked up again, never remembering her to look so casually fine this early in the morning. Mulder stared at her fair skin and near shoulder length auburn locks, and intentionally tried to ignore the beauty of her just standing there in dark sunglasses, a light colored, nearly florescent lavender blouse and perfect fitting blazer with matching hip-hugger slacks. She slid the glasses down mid way so that her eyes, a soul piercing bright blue, glanced over the rim.

He knew she was just dying for him to comment about her new casual attire, but he wasn t about to give her the satisfaction.

She was going on vacation soon and he lamented that she would be basking in the sun on some glorious island while he was stuck in D.C miserable and cold.

"Hey Scully, the casting call for the Don Ho-Miami Vice reunion special is down the hall." Scully ignored the comment.

"So Mulder, what do you think? Do these say I'm on vacation? Don't bother me unless you're rich, single and mute, Senor another margarita por favor, or More oil Miguel, I'm paying by the inch?"

Mulder scoffed in disgust.

"I think they say I couldn't be more obnoxious if I tried. Are you gonna act like this all day Scully? he replied in a nasal hoarse voice.

She scowled at him removing her glasses and pouting her lips.

"Just for you I am."

"You know Scully, I can save you some of that massive g-woman salary. If you want someone to rub oil on you, I've got a can of 10-30 in my dresser drawer I've been saving just for such an occasion."

"As tempting as that sounds, and as disturbing as it is to know you keep motor oil in your bedroom, I wouldn t want to interrupt your nightly calls to Bambi your 900 number mistress, or the very sad Caddy-Shack marathon weekend, so I'll stick with sunbathing on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico in Cancun."

"Cancun is the Carribbean Sea...and Caddy-shack is a true classic. A part of American history."

"Well, so is the Titanic, but you refused to see that one."

"You know Scully. . . the Titanic sinks in the end . . .!" Scully rolled her eyes and decided to change tactics.

"When are you going to get rid of that greenish blue color you've been sporting for a week now? You look like an X-File Mulder, like some sort of wretched phlegm producing monster." She asked walking towards her desk.

Mulder looked up at her glaring with his right eye twitching.

"At least I don t have to tag along on my mommy's vacation."

Scully stopped in her tracks. Unable to come up with a quick comeback, she continued towards the door. She was quickly face to face with Walter Skinner, the flush of anger quickly removed from her cheeks as she tried stealthily to cover up her blouse.

"Good morning agents. Agent Scully, you look," (interested cataloging pause) "Comfortable. Is your leave beginning today?"

"Uhhh yes, sir I'll be leaving from here going straight to the airport, and..."

"No need to explain agent, I didn t realize that it was coming up that soon. I have a case for you two, but instead I'll have Agents Palowski & Reither take a crack at it."

Mulder carefully placed his burnt files back in a zip-lok bag and placed them in his desk drawer.

"What is it? Let me see the file."

Skinner placed the manila folder of faxed documents on Mulder's desk.

"I received an early morning phone, from Sgt. Brian Martin, MDPD."

"Yeah, I know Martin, what's he gotten himself into?

"He inquired with Violent Crimes to see if they could lend him an agent or two. He is having a bit of a problem, and is beginning to think that a series of crimes in the area are related. All of the VCS agents are tied up finding terror cells, so it's slim pickings." Skinner sat on the edge of Mulder's desk watching Mulder read.

"From what he's told me, and from briefly scanning the file, what is strange about it is that they have only found two victims. One person died of a fatal wound, and another showed up at the hospital door so badly beaten she wasn't identified until after she'd passed away."

Scully, pursed her lips around the stem of her glasses as she and Mulder shared a cautious glance.

"He says that there are a number of people that have disappeared in the last week including a police officer from another precinct. The neighborhood and surrounding communities are on alert, especially after the woman (apparently a well known person in the community) was beat to death."

"Sir, based on these police reports, these cases aren't related, these people went to work one day, went home and never came back, it's like they disappeared without a trace. Then there are some in this file that look more like a burglary gone wrong. This woman's apartment, Court Stenographer Dashon Packer, showed not only signs of a struggle but even of a sexual assault. There is a degree of severity in these cases that doesn't match a link to just one person. I'd be interested to see what other evidence they have available."

"Mulder, you are in no condition to get involved in anything this deep right now, you are sick and this is something that you would obviously need my help with. "Scully remarked.

"I'm fine it's just a little head cold."

"Mulder you have at the very least acute bronchitis, which is quite a bit more serious than a cold." Scully closed the distance between she and Skinner as they both stood staring at Mulder.

"Sir, is this a favor to Sgt. Martin, or is it something that can wait for Scully's astute approval?"

"Never mind, Fox, it'll keep till Scully gets back."

"Fox?" Mulder whispered to himself. Wondering when they had become so informal when addressing each other.

"I can take it, Walter. Missing persons cases are not Scully's repertoire." Skinner's jaw formed a small sneer expressing his unspoken displeasure in hearing one of his subordinates call him by his first name.

"No, I think you may need her help though, it's complicated, and I know for sure that they would like to have forensics and a qualified pathologist at their disposal."

"You know, I did work pretty well by myself before I had Scully, I mean before Scully and I teamed up. I think I can handle one case by myself." Scully glared at him for his intentional Freudian slip.

"No one is doubting your ability Mulder, or your incredible knack of profiling criminals, I am however always reminded that you have a propensity of getting too caught up in your work, and in your present state, I cannot allow you to put yourself in this position, without the assistance of your partner, and approval of your doctor."

Scully felt a grimace come to her lips but quickly stifled it away when Mulder glanced in her direction.

"For now agent Mulder, just take a look at the file and see if you can divulge anymore details that might be helpful to Agents Reither & Pawloski. Are we clear?" Skinner demanded staring into Mulder s puffy eyes. Mulder simply nodded.

"Agent Scully?"

"Yes sir?"

"I hope you enjoy your week in the sun, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that your presence will be missed here." He said with a smirk and nod in Mulder's direction as he disappeared down the hall. The tension in the room was now quite thick as the heat rushed up from Mulder's neck directly to his already peaked cheeks.

Scully looked at him cautiously and then began to gather her things from her desk.

"I'll be over at Quantico for the rest of the day." She announced.

"You're leaving now? What about my medication?"

"I'll call in some antibiotics and something for your impending bronchitis." She neatly stacked papers on her desk, and turned off her lamp.

"Hey, Scully?"

"What . . . (a brief pause) Mulder?" she asked spinning around to see that she'd finally gotten his full attention.

"I hope you have a good time, and I'll miss you."

"I'm not calling in any happy drugs and I m not bringing you back anything or anyone."

"I don't want anything, you're my friend, and I just wanted you to know that, and have a good trip."

He said putting on his glasses returning to his work.

"Go to hell Mulder, I'm not falling for it."

"Falling for what? Exactly what are you insinuating?" There was silence as she stared at him, looking down at the work on his desk.

"You have been bitching about me taking this trip for 3 months."

"Bitching? Believe what you want, Dana. I know things have been strained around here with our monster case loads, and you absolutely deserve this vacation, but I m not going to say I'm happy to see you go. I just want you to be safe and have a good time." He replied, his vigorous hazel stare turning a green color that nearly made her weak.

Scully continued to look at him. She'd been fooled before, and wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. She put on her shades and walked down the hall.

"If you need anything before 3p.m. just call me on my cell, otherwise I'll see you in a week." I hope you are better by the time I return. Her voice trailed off down the hall. Slowly the tapping of her heels on the tiled concrete faded.

Mulder took off his glasses and looked up at the door. A look of sudden sadness befell his face. Whether she believed it or not that she would actually doubt his sincerity, made him a little upset. He put his glasses back on and continued working.

**Present Time Location Unknown**

Another scream from the distance startled him from his memories.  
>. . . So tired, . . . have to stay awake. he thought to himself, with a few short breaths his body and mind gave up as he loss consciousness again.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4 Vengeance

**Kaltbluetig ( In Cold Blood)**

**Disclaimers in part 1 - Mulderific yummyness brought to you by Jadebueafterglow17**

Kaltbluetig ( In Cold Blood)

Disclaimers in part 1 - Mulderific yummyness brought to you by Jadebueafterglow17

Chapter 4 - Vengeance

Friday 7:12a.m E.D.T. (by request I am adding the time frame so you don't have to keep guessing.)

Fire encircled his lips, and jaw as he was plucked from the darkness back to the life he so desperately tried to escape. He had been beaten with a bat, and every inch of his body cried out for mercy. The duct tape once adorning his lips had been ripped from its place, carrying a few delicate layers of his skin and whiskers with it.

Mulder coughed up the blood in his mouth and throat. It splattered his coarse lips, as he extended his tongue to soothe them.

The sounds of screams and silence were replaced with the approaching footsteps, and a deep sickness in his stomach. He still couldn't see, but he knew that he was suddenly the center of someone's attention. He remained motionless, hoping he could feign unconsciousness for a little longer. He quickly scoured the reaches of his mind, hoping his profiling skills were wrong.

"Subject is male, has considerable financial resources, has a medical background, never married, has a sibling, or parent that was murdered or died at an early age . . ."

He contemplated that last statement for a moment longer than he should have, thinking that he could easily be describing himself. Lost in his stupor he'd pondered too long, He was seized from his thoughts by a punch to his right jaw. He shivered involuntarily at the ferocity of the punch. "Man you guys r s'rus bout p'yng th' 900 bills on time." His voice slurred through his ruined jaw.

"It's good to see you still have your caustic sense of humor." the voice replied.

"Who r'u?" The pain filled rasp that escaped his lips surprised him in its weakness. Another fist punched him in the stomach. He coughed straining to catch his breath.

"Agent Mulder, or wait why I am I being so formal? Fox, it is so good to see you looking so morbidly ill."

"Wha you want f'm me?" Mulder asked, trying to recognize the accent of his captor.

"You poor sad little man, if I had known you were ill I wouldn't have taken you so abruptly, but unfortunately time was not on my side, and it wasn't on yours either." He said as Mulder now realized where he'd heard the harsh deep voice.

"Palchak" he whispered coherently.

"Very good, you're as cunning as a fox, if you'll pardon the trite pun. You see, I thought I would save you the trouble of looking for me, and just find you instead. I just had to thank you for the wonderful fight you put up, trying to get a life sentence for me. Death would have been better than the deplorable conditions I was forced to spend the last 10 years in. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to pretend to be mentally disturbed?"

The blindfold was snatched from his face, his eyes suddenly assaulted by the bright light from the bulb hanging three feet from his head.

"You r'nsne Plchk." Mulder replied. Palchak motioned to one of the men in the room, he reached up and grabbed the hand that was swelled by broken bones and twisted it. Mulder's face contorted wildly as he screamed in agony.

"Wanna kill me?" he panted.

"Oh quite the contrary Fox, you obviously don't remember, I've never killed anybody. I'm completely innocent. I like to watch."

"The enjoyment of beating a jackal of a man into a vegetative state was merely human, watching him suffer was one of the few joys of my life, often orgasmic. I could never kill anyone. Well, maybe except for you. But I'd like to have some fun with you first."

"All funned out, m'be some oth'tme."

He motioned for one of his men to walk towards him. Mulder watched as a thin man with reddish brown crew cut hair, kicked off a piece of wood from the moldy, aging building's flooring. He released Mulder from the fixture he'd been hanging from since his capture as he fell in a heap onto the floor below him. The sudden jolt filling his limbs instantly with fire.

"I like to call this little number "the new guy." It's a rendition of what it's like for someone newly acquainted to our beloved prison system."

Mulder struggled to focus his eyes, he caught blurred glimpses of the faces of those in the room he was in. He could not abort the rising panic in his mind, his breath catching, his lungs screaming for air, he began to cough uncontrollably, his cold symptoms worsening in the damp conditions.

Out of the corner of his eyes he heard first and then saw the moldy piece of wood coming toward his side. The impact sounding like a baseball bat making contact with leather, the feeling like no pain he could possibly ever express.

He merely whimpered, unable to catch enough air to produce a scream and cringed as the wood found its mark again, this time on his wounded thigh. The world began a desperate spin, a concave into darkness more painful than he could ever have imagined.

Another blow caught him between his shoulder blades, as he collapsed onto his stomach, any thought of retaliating shot by the sudden crack he heard from his shoulder.

"Please….." He whispered so soft he thought no one would hear it. At the wave of Palchak's hand, his assailant was stopped in mid swing.

"Please what Fox? Please kill you now? I'm afraid not, I want to see how much it will take to break you. I mean I know I have an unfair advantage with you being sick and all, but believe me, " He stooped down and lifted Mulder's head by his hair, "I will break you, and it will not come fast or easy." He rammed Mulder's head into the floor, and kicked him.

A long groan burst from his lips.

"Sc…ully." He breathed silently as unconsciousness claimed him once more.

Cancun Mexico Friday 6:12a.m. (CDT)

Submerged to her neck line in hot invigorating bubbles, the scent of aromatherapy candles encompassed every sense her body presented. She sighed deeply thinking she should try this simple pleasure more often in her own home. She slipped her hand out of the water and reached blindly for her glass of wine she thought was nearby.

When her hand brushed it she felt it crash to the ceramic tile floor. Immediately she sat up in the tub to witness the damage she'd done. Removing the avocado slices from her eyes she glanced at the floor and felt her heart begin to leap from her chest. Instead of the white wine she'd been drinking spilled on the floor, the floor was covered in crimson, a trail leading from her tub underneath her door into the hotel bedroom. She silently pondered the location of her gun, realizing she'd locked it in her room safe.

Dana quickly grabbed a towel from the edge of the tub, and with near silence escaped the warmth of the tub for the tip-toe steps of the Persian tile beneath her feet. Padding slowly away from the glass fragments, she reached down to touch the crimson substance on the floor, as if needing proof that the smell of blood her senses had come to recognize was in fact that. She wrapped herself in the white hotel issued terry cloth robe from the back of the door, and grabbed the bottle from the wine she'd been drinking, thankful the bottle was full enough to maintain its heavy weight. Slowly she peaked through the door. Pulling it seemed heavier than she'd remembered.

She stepped slowly into her shade darkened suite. Dana searched the wall with her hands and found the switch that gradually begin to lighten the room in the sitting area. At first the room appeared to be normal, the exterior door was closed, her clothes still hung in the closet, but as she stepped toward her bed she felt something squishy underneath her feet.

Dana looked down to find that the carpet was soaked in red, the crimson red that seemed to have freshly pooled under her.

Quickly she checked herself knowing that she would not have the ability to stand if she'd lost this much blood. As she stared at the room and picked up the trail of blood again she saw finally where it was coming from.

Dana felt her stomach lurch, her head spinning, her heart pounding so loud in her ears, she almost didn't feel her body as it (almost on auto pilot) approached the bed eight feet away.

A man was in her bed, his blood dripping from his swollen hands onto the floor; his body naked, skin like a human hematoma, long cuts that bubbled with blood, and a knife sticking through the bed where his leg was.

Her hands began to tremble as she reached the bed, now covered in this man's blood. Hot tears filled her eyes, as she reached for the bloodied hand, pulling it to her face. Her eyes traveled up to see the man's face, as she did she screamed and then her vision went black.

The sound of her alarm buzzer going off ended the nightmare.

She panted, perspiring profoundly, she sat up in her hotel bedroom to find her warm bed beneath her un-bloodied and uninhabited.

Her head slammed back down onto her pillow. She glanced over at her alarm clock, praying she hadn't awakened her mother in the adjoining room.

She stared up at the ceiling, tears streaming down her face.

She had been awakened from her most frightening nightmare to date. She tried to put the images out of her head, but they had been permanently etched in her mind. Her vacation had been relaxing and nerve racking all at the same time because of her vivid nightmares.

The nightmares she'd been suffering since before she left DC had not subsided and seemed to be growing in detail and intensity.

She stepped from her bed, opening the blinds to witness the spectacular view of the warm Gulf of Mexico as the sun began to light the sky behind the hotel.

Dana Scully turned and walked to her nightstand, glancing at the tickets that would return her home today, to work, to her own apartment and to Mulder. She hadn't spoken to him since she left him a week ago. She envisioned his face, wearing those glasses, his hazel puddles of woe peering at her over the rim, suffering with a cold, miserable and adorable. She smiled thinking about how pitiful he looked, trying desperately to suppress a giggle at the vision of him.

"Dana." Scully, startled, inhaled quickly.

"Oh God Mom you scared me to death."

"I'm sorry dear, I'd called you three times, you were lost in your own little world." Her mother stepped away from her and fell back onto her bed, in an exasperated sigh.

"Oh honey! Are you sure we have to leave today?"

"Mom, at least you'll be trading one vacation for another. Going to Rome in November doesn't compare to DC in November!"

"You could always come with me."

"You know that I can't, we are buried alive in active cases all over the bureau, I was lucky to get one week, and besides ….."

"Besides, your partner needs you, and if you don't get back to him so you can ignore his affection for you in person you will go stir crazy."

Scully rolled her eyes and pulled her mother off her bed. "Out…go pack mom, I'll get a shower and meet you in an hour so we can check out and get some breakfast."

"Okay dear, can I borrow one of your towels, I used mine at the pool."

"Sure mom help yourself." Scully replied, removing her suitcase from the closet.

Maggie peaked in the bathroom and turned on the light.

"Dana?"

"Yeah mom?"

"What happened in here did you break something?" Scully suddenly realized what her mother was asking as she turned from the closet and stood in the door beside her. There on the floor was broken glass, and drops of red on the otherwise clean floor. Remembering her dream, Dana nearly fainted there on the spot. Quickly, with purpose, she grabbed a towel from her sink.

"Here you go mom, I dropped a glass last night while sleep walking,"

"Well be careful dear, we don't want to have to stop and get stitches for a souvenir." Her mother returned to her room.

Scully picked up one of the shards of glass and stared at it as if it were growing horns. Her mind racing she covered the debris with a towel, and headed to take a shower.

This was my favorite chapter to write...please show me some love...Review! : )


	5. Chapter 5  Revelations

_**Chapter 5**_  
><em><strong>Revelations<strong>_

_**RATING: M (Implied sexual assault-No verbals or visuals!(chapter 5 only)**_

Time Unknown  
>Location Unknown<p>

Mulder felt tremors rack his body. The electrical cord he had been beaten with sliced through his skin like Ginsu™ knives. His flesh stung with hot blood coursing from the wounds. Nothing compared to the pain in his leg and his throbbing chest. He knew that he was near death. His ears rang constantly, sound was muffled, his eyesight was useless, and his brain had so much swelling he could no longer try to imagine himself in a safe place. He could only hear the screams of the others who suffered a fate similar to his own, and pray his simple chant:  
>{Please God, let Scully be safe, I'll accept anything but please keep her safe.}<p>

Sometime later Mulder's mind registered:

Voices. One of them the voice of that little Nazi bastard Palchak.

A door closing.

Something pouring on his leg wound, burning. Hoarse Screaming. A man with trembling hands and gentle ministrations offering whispers of encouragement.

"You'll make it out of here, I'll do everything I can to help you sir." he whispered guardedly.

A shot in his leg. More burning, then itching, then blessed numbness.

Silence.

Other voices.  
>A hushed urgent cacophony of demands.<p>

Hands gripping his sides.

Roughly lowered to the floor.

Hands wrapped tightly around his hips, his hands numb behind him.

The nauseating feeling of unwanted warm flesh pressing against his naked body.

Burning, searing pain unlike any he ever experienced.

A silent prayer to a God he didn't believe existed.

{"God, if you don't do anything else to ever save my sorry ass again, please help me pass out"} A scream erupting from his hoarse throat, like the steam from a teakettle.  
>Crying, oh God is that me crying? Please make it stop.}<p>

A prayer of thanks.

A retreat to a safe place.

"Scully... please… please help me...Please forgive me for giving up."

Pain in his breath, lungs on fire.

Pain.

Fire.

Darkness.

Peace.

Dulles International Airport  
>Washington, DC<br>Saturday November 18, 5:05p.m

Agent Scully looked down at her watch through her conservative, yet fashionable silver rimmed transition sunglasses. She pulled her jacket hood more securely on her head. Scully glanced at the light freckles on her wrist. She turned around and grabbed a case from the luggage turnstile next to her mother Margaret Scully.

"Why is it that you can lay out for 5 minutes and get a tan, and when I get sun, you can play connect the dots on my body?"

"You've got your father's fair skin." Her mother replied with a smile.

"Did you have a good time Dana?"

"We will definitely have to do that again. Did you  
>know that my masseuse slipped me his phone number? With skills like that you would think he wouldn't have to solicit women."<p>

"Maybe he just knows he'll never find another beauty like you."

"Mom, please."

Margaret Scully sighed.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drop you off?" Margaret asked as her daughter pulled her luggage close to the curb. The steam from a sewer grate rose warmly into the frigid air next to it.

"No, my apartment is clear across town, and you're close by. I'll give you a call later this week before you and Aunt Teresa head off on your little pilgrimage." She replied as a cabby stopped and began putting her luggage in the car.

"I love you," she bellowed watching her daughter get in the taxi.

"I love you too." She replied.

Margaret Scully watched as the taxi drove off in haste. She knew that her daughter's thoughts, even on vacation, were transfixed on getting back to her job. Not to work, but to the man her daughter loved. Dana would never admit to her feelings; not to her mother, but maybe one day soon she hoped she'd stop denying them, to herself.

Dana Scully reached into her small purse and took out two tens to give to the cab driver, "Thank you," she said as he nodded and closed the door behind her. She locked her door, slid off her jacket, glanced at her thermostat and turned it up to 75 degrees. She walked into her bedroom and dropped her luggage onto her bed plopping down beside it to slip off her brown boots. She peered into her bathroom and plugged the drain on her tub. Drawing herself a warm bath, she pinned her hair up as she walked into her den to check her messages.

The automated system announced:

"You have six un-played messages."  
>The first was a clicking sound as the caller hung up. The second was the same. She was about to turn off the machine when the third message began to play:<br>"Hey G-woman this is Byers, wondering if you've heard from Mr. Luder. He skipped out on the Sonar voiceprint analysis we picked up. As always destroy this message. Later."

Scully rolled her eyes and cursed the day that they discovered her phone number.

"Now Dana, be nice." she said to herself. "They've saved your ass a-many-a-day. At least Mulder had sense enough to stay away from them while he recuperates."

The last message began playing:

It sounded like someone was moaning, and groaning with the background noise, she immediately stopped her tape, not looking at the number it displayed.

"Great." She exclaimed, annoyed at the thought of yet another obscene phone call.

She slipped off every article of her clothing onto the clean tile floor. Her apartment had grown toasty warm with the heat blasting, she suddenly felt like she was back in Cancun.

There was nothing more divine, than a warm bath and a glass of wine. But since she didn't have any wine, tomato juice on the rocks would have to do. She laid her head back on her bath pillow and relaxed amongst the silky tantalizing bath bubbles.

6:27 p.m. Sunday EDT

Pillen stepped over the carcass of a rat he shot two days prior. He knocked on the closed door lightly. There was no answer. Suddenly the door was swept open and he was face to face with Palchak. Clutching the Sunday paper in his hand, he opened the page and showed it to Frank Palchak. On the page was a picture of the homeless man, as a young man based on his drivers license. The homeless man that had been killed and discarded was a former marine sergeant who'd fallen on hard times.

"Boss, I think we got a problem here."

"What is it?"

"Remember that homeless guy we got outta here?"

"Yes, what about it?"

"Well some fisherman found his carcass, and the cops made an ID. The cops are gonna start asking questions around here soon."

"Damn it, you idiots! Doesn't anybody know how to get rid of a body these days." Palchak stared at the picture glancing at the captions on the picture.

"Only a matter of time before somebody recognizes him. I've got a guy down at the coroners, and I told him to lose as much info as he could without being suspicious, but the cops are already digging into it."

"Get a few guys down there to secure the area. Tonight we're going to get out of here."

"What about all these prisoners?

"We'll take care of that, you go and find out what the police are saying." Palchak said as the man backed away nervously.

"And Pillen," the man looked up, wide-eyed "go get the shovels and a newspaper. Andy, you go with him.," he continued.

Andy nodded, and suddenly Pillen was fearful for his life. Not too many people who rode anywhere with Andy made it back alive. All Pillen could think was, that he had to make an escape and quick.

Andy tapped him on the shoulders pulling him from his thoughts as he was ushered out the door.  
>Palchak looked at the other man in the room with him.<p>

"Ronald, make sure that Pillen's tracks are covered. We will leave this place tonight, and leave his carcass in here with the others.

"What about the others?"

"Gag them and bury them alive. Leave the judge and that bastard Mulder to me. I want to watch them draw their last breath.

"Yes sir." Ronald said as he walked out the door.  
>Palchak turned and looked through the glass window staring at the vacant dilapidated buildings surrounding his recent purchase.<p>

"A town destroyed by its own overnight success. Now it's just the breeding ground for violence, drug hideouts, and shelters for vagrants; just where these thieves belong. They stole ten years of my life. Its only fair that I steal the rest of theirs." He pondered.

Frank Palchak poked his finger into the broken windowpane, cut his pinky finger and smiled delighted at the blood it produced. Licking his wound he turned to walk out of the empty room into the hallway to finish off his prey.

7:10 p.m. Sunday-  
>Georgetown Scully's Apartment<p>

Dana Scully found her self consumed by her own thoughts. Trying to make sense of her existence she pondered her life, the sacrifices she has made and the results therein. She was assigned to the X-files division of the FBI to substantiate or debunk the work of her formidable partner, agent Fox Mulder. Although she enjoyed the challenge and excitement her work brought her, she was not looking forward to the grind of her daily routine of autopsies and investigations that made her job so time consuming. Forensics had been her passion since she graduated medical school, but somehow along the way she had taken on the passions and burdens of her partner, while letting her own ambitions slip away.

Scully picked up her phone and began to dial her partner's number. A sense of urgency befell her. She couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to see him. She told him that she didn't want anything to do with him until she was back at work Monday.

As difficult as it was to stick to her guns, she found herself pressing the single digit to dial his cell number, number 1 on her cell.

After one ring a message began:  
>"The wireless customer you are attempting to reach has traveled out side the coverage area or is not currently available, please try your call again later"<p>

Scully hung up the phone and pressed 3 to dial his home number, but decided she'd better wait till morning. Somehow she smelled a classic Mulder ditch in the works. But she hoped she was wrong.

She sat at her desk, sipping calmly from the warm tea she had made, and fumbled with the buttons on her blue flannel pajamas, before opening up her pc mailbox. There was only one message from her partner. It was written on the Tuesday after she left for vacation:

"Scully, just a fair warning. I believe an autopsy has been performed on two of the victims for that missing persons case Skinner gave us before you left. When you get back I'd like for you to have a look, before the bodies are returned to the victims family I hope you return well rested see you soon." – Mulder

Scully closed the letter and deleted it from her inbox. When she saw no other messages from her partner she browsed through other messages, before closing her laptop removing her glasses and turning on the television.

7:10 pm Sunday, November 19  
>Location Unknown<p>

Frank Palchak entered the room, wiping the blood from his gloves as he tossed the rag to the floor.

"Watching the judge plead for his life like a sniveling child was more fun than I expected. Make sure that door is locked before we leave." Palchak said as a dark haired man nodded his head and disappeared from sight.

"Wake up little Fox, wake up." Palchak chanted ripping the duct tape from Mulder's mouth. Mulder didn't respond as his jaw slid open. His lifeless body hung without moving. Palchak looked at the hands strung above his prisoner's head. His hands were purple and blue swollen beyond logical recognition. Ronald, Palchak's head henchman on cue punched Mulder in his stomach.

Not only did he not stir, Mulder didn't make a sound as fresh blood poured from his mouth. His jaw slanted so morbidly out of line his face was nearly unrecognizable. Ronald and Palchak looked at each other. Ronald removed Mulder's handcuffs as he fell to the floor again in a heap, without even a whimper. Ronald felt for his pulse.

"He's still alive, but barely. He won't make it through the night."

" Oh no you don't Mr. Mulder. I'm not done with you yet. I'll tell you when its time to die." Palchak lurched back and kicked Mulder's chest as if he was trying to score a soccer goal.

Mulder never flinched, as the momentum of the kick launched him a few feet onto his back. His blue lips were tainted with fresh crimson.

"Get that damn doctor in here. Tell him to do whatever it takes to make him lucid."

"Yes sir."  
>Palchak squatted down to Mulder's level. He slapped his face viciously again. When there was no response, he grasped Mulder's leg and pushed his thumb deep into the fleshy part of his wound. An agonized moan escaped Mulder's lips and a shuddering gasp wracked his body. Palchak smiled.<p>

The sandy haired doctor came in and knelt beside him. He wore a tattered polo shirt and dirty faded pants. He looked like he had been ripped from a golf course.  
>"My wife has been moved. You promised you wouldn't hurt her if I helped your prisoners."<p>

"And she will not be harmed as long as you do as I say. My men will leave her in a car, and the camera will be removed. You will no longer be able to watch her, but as long as she behaves and you do as I say she will be safe."

The doctor sighed heavily. He ran his fingers through his hair, as the bright white bulb that illuminated the cavernous room, highlighted the etched worry lines on his grime-covered face. He had been a prisoner of Palchak for more than a month now, doing the bidding of healing his prisoners just enough so that they would not die before Palchak was done with them.

After he intentionally killed two patients who were suffering terribly, Palchak made him watch as his wife had been beaten and sexually assaulted. After watching his wife suffer and scream his name for help, his life no longer matter to him anymore, all he could think about was doing what he could to protect his wife and his unborn son.

Dr. Henry Dickson took out his blood-covered stethoscope, and wiped it as best he could with baby wipes Palchak's goons had given him. He listened to Mulder's chest.

"He has a dangerously high fever, his lungs are too filled with fluid, his heart is struggling, and his body just cannot take anymore of this, there is nothing I can do for him here."

"Give him the stuff"

" I thought you wanted to kill him slowly. If I inject this into his heart . . ."

"Just do it, now!"

The Doctor shuddered, and took out his needle. Breaking open a purple box, he filled the needle to its maximum. He wiped Mulder's neck with the wipes and then with alcohol and shot the syringe's full content into his neck. He then took a second syringe, broke off the tip, and added a fluid to it as well, the combined fluid was quickly shot into his hip without further preparation."

After about 5 minutes Mulder started to convulse.

"What did you give him?"

"I gave him the epinephrine and atropine just like you said.' The doctor answered.

"What else?"

"I gave him a corti-steroid so he would be able to breathe. If he can't breathe with the Epi he'll have a heart attack." He lied.

At that moment, Mulder screamed a hoarse agonizing scream and began to curl up into a ball.  
>Palchak pulled the doctor out of the way and yanked Mulder up by the hair into a sitting position.<p>

"Get him out of here." he said as another armed man ushered the doctor out of the door.

"You are not going to die that easily, I promised you would suffer, and I'm not done with you."

Mulder's eyes opened but stared through swollen lids unfocused and glassy. The doctor had also slipped him a bit of stashed morphine. His pain was still intense, but at least for the moment it was not all consuming.

Mulder looked at his captor, straining to identify his features, but his brain was not working, his breathing was so painful he struggled to sit up; but before he could he was slapped by a forceful backhand as he was launched to the floor.

"I promised you would never see the light of day. I never said you were going to die on your own terms, not easy." Palchak stood up quickly and kicked Mulder in his stomach.

Mulder curled up as tight as he could as another blow landed in his forehead. Stars danced in his eyes, and his heart raced like a tympani drum in his ears.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, please…" he whispered. Palchak pulled Mulder's hair and leaned close.

"What did you say?"

"So…sorry dad, I'm sorry." Palchak looked back at Ronald who shrugged his shoulders.

"Dad please . . ."Mulder whimpered softly but Palchak's face grew into an evil smirk.

"Sorry is just not going to cut it . . .boy. Look at me!" Palchak screamed.

Mulder could only see figures. His eyes burned as he tried to focus.

"I can never forgive you Fox. You are a disgrace, I'm ashamed to call you my son." He replied bitterly. He glanced back at Ronald whose face was expressionless.

Ronald heard the words escape Frank Palchak's lips and something in his words struck him. His heart panged with sympathy. Palchak had taken this man's dignity, robbed him of his security, and was stealing his future, but now he was trying to also destroy his past.

Ronald found himself wondering: why this was invading his conscience. Why did he care that this man who had somehow wronged Palchak was being made to suffer so terribly, physically and emotionally?

Ronald thought about the money waiting for him back in Austria, and remembered why he was doing this, so he would never have to do this again.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and found he was face to face with Palchak.

"Did you hear me? What the hell is the matter with you?" He demanded.

"… Oh, sorry, what did you say?" he asked nervously.

" I said, gag him and put him in the floor with the others."

Ronald nodded, and pulled a gag from his pocket as Palchak held his arm. Palchak whispered something into Mulder's unconscious ear, and then walked out of the room.

"I'll be waiting in the car. Call Andy and make sure Pillen has been taken care of, and make sure Andy brings him back here with the others." He said as he walked out of the room.

Ronald knelt down to the trembling shivering former shell of a man on the floor.

He looked at the blood covering every inch of his body. Mulder was burning up with fever, his deeply unconscious form shivering and convulsing. He placed the gag around his head, and put it loosely in his mouth. Ronald put his hands around Mulder's neck. For a split second he considered snapping his neck to end his misery. Something in the way the man trembled prevented him from doing it. Maybe he needed more time to make peace with his dying. Ronald decided to let nature take its course.

He saw that his nose was broken, and decided to put the gag where he could breathe if he wanted to. Maybe he should put the guy out of his misery. He tied his arms in front of him, and looked at him, he didn't see the evil in him that Palchak claimed he'd caused and he didn't feel he had the righ to end his life if God himself had not taken him. . Ronald pulled up the boards in the floor and found the ventilation shaft. He picked up Mulder's body and quickly placed him in the hole. He removed his jacket, pulled off his sweater and put it in the hole on top of his naked body. Ronald put his jacket back on, and covered Mulder with the floorboards. He took one last glance at the hole and walked out the door.

Maryland Scenic Coast Highway  
>8:15 p.m. Sunday<p>

"Pull over here for a second I gotta use the head." Pillen feigned agitation as much as he could.

"We will be at our destination in less than an hour, you can wait." Andy replied.

"Andy I'm not kidding. Unless you want a new unpleasant smell in your ride you need to let me go. Look you probably need some gas anyway. Pull over at the service station ahead, and let me use the head, I'll only be a minute." Andy was already terribly suspicious of Pillen, but he cared more about the leather of his new truck.

Andy stopped at the gas station and pulled in next to the gas pump. Before the car stopped moving, Pillen was out the door into the cold air without even so much as his jacket.

Andy paid no attention as Pillen ran inside and stood at the front counter. He put in his credit card and started to put gas in his tank. A few drops of gasoline dripped onto the car and onto his hands.

The static from removing his gloves and rubbing his hands on his polyester wool pants to remove the gasoline had already sealed his phone rang in Andy's pocket.

As he reached to open and answer it, a blinding flash of light exploded in his face. He felt his hair and skin burning as he fell, less than gracefully, to the ground. Andy screamed in terror unaware of what was happening. Pillen was coming to the door when he saw what happened.

Someone at the pump next to him ran and threw his jacket on Andy's head, trying to put out the fire as the attendant rushed to turn the gas off.

Another attendant called the police and fire department and he ran to assist the patron, dousing the car with a fire extinguisher.  
>Pillen saw Andy's car go up in flames, and Andy being thrown back onto the pavement.<p>

For a moment he panicked, but only for a moment. He quickly walked down the long highway away from the gas station grateful to have escaped Andy's fate. He headed South on the highway back towards town. He was sure Andy was ordered to kill him.

Somehow fate had changed and now he was destined to do something else. He was headed to the nearest police station.

Location Unknown

Ronald stared at the phone in his hand. He heard Andy answer the phone and then the sound of his blood-curdling scream. Ronald had no idea what was happening but he heard the static and the sudden end to the phone call. He dialed the number again and all he could hear was a fast busy signal. Ronald quickly dialed Pillen's number. When the voice mail answered he knew something was wrong.

Ronald's mind kept thinking back to the woman he shot in the head, the judge he buried alive in that shaft who was so terrified of the dark, he screamed himself hoarse, and of Fox Mulder. He quickly dismissed those thoughts and thought of how proud his family would be when he arrived back in Austria. Nothing or no one else mattered.

_***************Please Review**************No more updates till I reach ten********************_


	6. Chapter 6 Unbekannt Cadaver

_Chapter 6 Unbekannt Kadaver (unknown body)_

_**SUMMARY: Will Scully be able to rescue Mulder from the madman who has tortured and buried her partner alive?**_

**DISCLAIMER: You know who they belong to, so do not sue me I am just borrowing them to have my own little fun! I sure wish there could be another X-files movie, I need some more Mulder grey t-shirts scenes to keep my creative juices flowing! Reviews: Greatly Appreciated**

_Monday November 20 4:27a.m_

Agent Scully entered the coroner's laboratory at Quantico. Being called in during the middle of the night to do an autopsy had Mulder written all over it. If this were a wild goose chase she'd make sure he was wearing the toe tag next.

"This body better have wings and three heads, to drag me down here at this time of the morning." Scully mumbled to herself.

Agent Scully once again entered the cold sterile room at the bureau where she'd performed countless autopsies. She donned a white lab coat over her green scrubs and put on the goggles from the side hip pocket.

Reaching for her tape recorder, she glanced at the

"John Doe" toe tag of the covered body she was about to autopsy. She took a deep, unfulfilled breath as she picked up the chart and began recording.

"Unidentified subject . . . is male, Caucasian, approximate age late 30's, (she lifted up the bottom of the sheet to glance at the naked cadaver's lower extremities), "Obviously fit, and otherwise healthy in appearance, cause of death. . ." she said turning to the second page of the report.

"Undetermined?"

"Time of death, unknown." She pulled the covers from the head down to the waist of the person, and walked away to get a thermometer. Scully stuck it into his ear, when an unusual but familiar scar on his upper chest, grasped her attention. It looked like a healed over bullet wound. She felt her heart drop to her stomach as she turned the subjects head to see her partner, Agent Fox Mulder's battered and bruised blue face. His eyes opened suddenly and he whispered unintelligible words to her.

Scully suddenly felt her knees give way, and her sight turn to blackness as she dropped to the floor in a heap.}

Agent Scully, quickly sat up in her bed, breathing erratically. She glanced at her clock. It screamed 4:29 a.m. in bright red numbers. She wondered whether the dream she kept having was trying to tell her something. She was now especially concerned because she'd reached a new level in her recurring nightmare, she was able to see the face of her subject. She picked up the phone receiver and dialed, as the phone connected to her partner's number, she was greeted by a fast busy signal. She hang up and dialed his cell phone, it went directly to his voicemail.

Hanging up the phone, she sipped from a glass of water on her nightstand and slung her feet over to the side of the bed, as she got up and headed towards her bathroom.

Office of Assistant Director of the FBI  
>Monday 7:59 a.m.<p>

"I had a message from you on my cell phone sir, I couldn't reach Agent Mulder to join us. Is everything alright?"

"Well that answers that question." He said softly.

"Sir?"

"Come in Agent." She stood vigilantly at his desk.

"Please have a seat Dana." He said as she stared at him.

"Dana? He never calls me Dana." She felt her pulse begin to race.

"How was your vacation?"

"It was very nice, I spent some quality time with my Mom. We had our Thanksgiving get together a little early since she is taking a tour of Rome with her parishioners." she gently pulled her layered red locks behind her ear.

" . . . But, I get the feeling that you didn't call me in here to discuss my vacation."

"No, as much as I would rather share a casual conversation with you, I called you in here to talk to you about Agent Mulder." He pulled off his glasses pursing the left handle between his lips.

" What has he done now?"

"It's not what he has done, its what he hasn't done."

"Whatever it is maybe he was too ill to do it. He was pretty sick the last time I saw him."

"Yes, I know I drove him home last week. Agent Scully, when was that the last time you had any contact with him?"

"Sir, what hasn't he done? I'm not sure where you are going with this. Has Mulder done something wrong?"

"No, nothing like that. At least as far as I know."

"Then what?" Asst. Director Skinner took a deep breath.

"Agent Scully the last time that Agent Mulder reported for work was last Wednesday. He went home sick at 12 because I threatened to fire him for contaminating government property and employees. I dropped him off at his apartment complex."

"Yeah I know, I called and your secretary said you were dropping him off. I thought it was rather bizarre that he was unable to drive himself."

"Nevertheless, since then he has been unreachable at home, and on his cell phone. We called the company cell network carrier and he hasn't made a call on it since late Wednesday evening. Coincidentally, earlier in the day before I made him go home, I'd spoken to him about a missing person's case that he was going to wait till you got back to work on. I am beginning to wonder if he went off on his own to look for clues and may also be missing."

"Missing? Why would you think that?"

" I didn't get the opportunity to drive by his apartment again, I just wanted to wait until you got back to see if he had been in contact with you, or whether the two of you were together . . ."

"More than likely he just got bored at home and went ahead and started gathering evidence. Where was the crime scene?" Scully replied visibly uncomfortable at what Skinner was suggesting.

"I hadn't really told him much of anything, I even took the file back with me. It should be down on your desk. I had Kim drop it off this morning. It would have been in the Baltimore / D.C. area. But I was hesitant to assign it to him, without you being here with him. He could barely speak or move without feeling immediately ill. I probably should have checked on him, later that week. I'm just wondering if he may be in the hospital or with a friend. I didn't know how to contact those three lunatics…..what do they call themselves?

"Oh, you mean Byers, Frohike and Langly? " Skinner nodded.

"With Mulder being that sick, I'm sure he would avoid that unnecessary aggravation. I don't think he would contact them but they might know where he is."

"I wanted to talk to you first before I sent out an all points bulletin. If you don't find him buried in his bed at his apartment, maybe you should check the local hospitals. I know Mulder would not voluntarily go to a hospital, but perhaps someone may have taken him."

" Did you phone his mom's house? He may be there. It's most likely that he may just be at home 'out cold'. I called him in some pretty strong medicine to help him sleep before I left. So maybe he actually listened to me and stayed home and got some rest." Agent Scully pulled out her cell phone and pushes the buttons to call the pharmacy speed dial again. Her dialing was rapid and nervous, tapping the back of the phone with her freshly manicured nails. She tried to ignore the swelling uncomfortable worry that had begun in her stomach.

"Yes, hello . . . this is Dr. Dana Scully DEA#AK6813534. I called four prescriptions last Saturday for a Fox Mulder I need to know if they were picked up." She paced around Skinners' office waiting for a reply.

"It's unusual that he didn't call, and every time I try to call him at home the phone just rings, the answering machine stopped picking up."  
>Scully held up her hand to stop him from talking as the pharmacy returned to the phone. "Yes? . . . He did pick it up. Thank you." Skinner nodded his head.<p>

"If you don't mind, I'll run by there to make sure he's there. If not he may be over at his parent's old house. I know he wanted to box up some things so he could put it up for sale."

"Yes Agent Scully, give me a call when you reach him." He said.

Agent Scully didn't think to mention the eerie nightmare she'd had that morning. She didn't want to even fathom its meaning. She kept those thoughts closed in her mind as she grabbed her jacket from their office and headed for the elevator.

Monday, 10:08 a.m.  
>Mulder's Apartment<br>Alexandria, VA

Agent Scully peered down the hallway leading to Mulder's apartment. She thought to herself, even if there was something going on or he was sick it was unusual that Mulder did not call her. He certainly would call in sick unless he was so ill that he lost consciousness. Even if he did, the first and only person he would call would be Agent Scully, his doctor, confidant, and best friend. Scully had always been there for him when he was sick or hurt. Even after she had to shoot him to keep him from making a fatal mistake, she still took care of him.

She began to feel a nagging sense of guilt for leaving him when he was so ill, hoping she would not live to regret her decision.

Scully knocked on the door to Apt 42. There was no answer.

She knocked again. Scully reached down and grabbed the bundle of papers gathered at his door. There were three editions of the Lone Gunmen's journal from the past few days, and several brown paper wrapped magazines.

"Mulder? Mulder it's me . . ." she shouted.  
>She didn't hear anything.<br>Scully looked on her key ring and found the key he had given her and slowly opened the door, not noticing that the door was already unlocked.

"Mulder . . . it's me." She walked in and closed the door. She headed towards the desk to look to see if he had checked his messages. She saw that his answering machine had no messages. The red light was just in a constant random blinking. That was strange, even for Mulder. It was dark in the apartment, only the reflection of the sun in the window and the light from the fish tank illuminated the room.

She glanced over and noticed the fish were swimming furiously at the top. She picked up the fish food in her trembling hand and gently tapped a few flakes over the bubbling water. She watched as the three fish hungrily ate their first meal in days, and gently tapped a few more flakes in their direction.

"Hungry boys? The master of the house putting you on a crash starvation diet too?"

"Mulder?" she yelled.  
>Scully turned her head quickly as she heard what sounded like water running coming from his kitchen. Staring straight ahead, she headed in the direction of the sound.<p>

"Mulder . . . Are you in there" she began as she slowly pulled her gun from behind her and went through the doorway to his kitchen; she then realized the water she'd heard was coming from the apartment next door. Something in the pit of her stomach warned her not to turn the lights on.

She went into his kitchen and looked at the bottle next to a half full glass of water. It still felt weird, even though she'd spent the many years in medical school, that she could pick up a prescription bottle and her name and DEA # could appear registering as someone's doctor. She was about to go back into the living room when she caught sight of what looked like footprints impressed in the hard wood floor. She turned on light switch.

She got down on her knees to study the prints, dipping her finger in the substance, and revealing blood. She turned around to see the source of the footprint, as a look of wide-eyed horror befell her face. Dark red fingerprints in the carpet, freshly smeared on the walls like some kind of abstract painting.

Her heartbeat drummed in her ears. Suddenly there seemed to be a reason her thoughts had been so consumed by images of her partner. Rising weak kneed to her feet, she encountered a trail of blood leading to his bedroom. There was blood all over the walls, his bedspread, and the oak chest of drawers.

Scully's hands began to shake as she looked around the room. Unable to move from the spot she was standing in, she stared blankly around her. His mirror was broken with blood smeared on the shards of glass on the carpet. The chaos that his apartment had become, was a tale-tell sign that her partner was not just too sick to answer the phone.  
>She felt sick, as she fell to her knees unable to catch her breath.<p>

" . . .Oh my God! What . . .? " she stammered rocking back and forth with her eyes closed, hoping when she opened them it would have all just been a horrible nightmare. "Mulder?…."

Her voice trembled, as she stared at the trail of smeared dark brown bloody fingers imprinted into the carpet. His bedspread was pulled off the bed onto the floor. An empty glass lay on the floor by the bed. Ripped shreds of blood-tinged clothing were scattered about.

Agent Scully pulled out her cell phone and called Assistant Director Walter Skinner.

"Skinner please. Well get him off the phone this is Agent Scully I need to speak with him right now!" She stammered as she walked back to the front room.

"Yes Agent Scully. Did you find him?"

"Mulder is gone, . . . someone has him, or has killed him . . . his bedroom has been trashed, . . . there is blood everywhere . . . windows broken, . . . he must have fiercely fought his attacker."

"Agent Scully, I don't understand. What's happened, are you okay? Are you sure he's not there?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" she screamed. "No one is here, the apartment . . . there is so much blood, he must be bleeding to death." she said as her voice trembled, she ran her fingers through the top of her thick hair staring at her surroundings in disbelief.

"What in the hell was he working on? . . . What is going on?"

"Agent Scully, Hang up the phone, don't touch anything and call the police. I'm on my way."  
>She hung up the phone choking back the sensation of a lump in her throat. She called the police and the FBI crime lab team to the apartment.<p>

Scully put her phone down and stammered around the small apartment, unable to find her bearings. She instantly morphed into the cool facade that was profiler and forensics specialist Dana Scully. If she didn't detach herself she knew she'd find herself lying in the middle of the floor crying endless tears. She put on her latex gloves and started looking for clues, of any type that might tell her what happened.

"Who would want to hurt Mulder that would be this obvious?" she thought to herself as she leaned against his worktable.

Scully knelt on the floor of the den, and tried to determine how long the now encrusted bloodstains had been on the floor. Through the corner of her eye she could see his cell phone smashed to bits in a crumpled mess beside his desk chair. She heard sirens and the sounds of car doors slamming outside the building. She walked out in to the den and moved to open the door, when she saw a note taped to the back of the door; a sealed brown shipping envelope with blood stains on it. She knew that it was most likely something she didn't want to see in the envelope.

She stepped back and opened the door as she heard hurried footsteps approaching. Neighbors, who'd been accustomed to Agent Mulder's loud visitors, huddled in front of their doors peering into the hallway.

"Start taking statements from these people, no one leaves until everyone on this floor has been interviewed."

"Yes sir."

" Agent Scully,?" AD Skinner said as he opened the door.

" Sir this was taped to the door. I wanted to make sure you were here to see it, before I opened it."

" I don't think you should, Agent."

"I have to, if it's a note maybe I can recognize the writing." she said opening the envelope and peering inside at its contents. It was two pictures from a Polaroid camera. She looked carefully at the picture and saw Mulder's peacefully sleeping frame in the comfort of his own bed. The second picture was the bloodied, bruised and battered face of her unconscious partner.

The blood drained from her face as she showed AD Skinner the contents. She took a deep breath and looked at him in disgust.  
>Skinner turned to the police officer entering the apartment behind him and flashed his FBI badge,<p>

"Don't let any of the tenants leave this building. Go ahead and put up the crime scene tape, I have some FBI agents coming that will handle the evidence.

"Agent Scully, are you all right?" she stared at the bloodstains on the wall.

"I don't understand, how could all of this happen, and no one called the police. I mean this could not have been something that was quiet, there is blood everywhere."

"Have you searched for a ransom note?"

"Ransom? Who is left that is going to pay money to get Mulder back besides me? I don't have any money, I am an FBI agent for godsakes!"

Skinner held his hands up in absolution.

"No, with all due respect sir, I can't . . ." she replied choking up, unable to complete her sentence.

"Agent Scully, maybe you should go home, let us take care of this."

"I am a forensics specialist and I'm certainly the best one for this task."

"I just think it might be better if you…." Skinner began.

"I'll be in the bedroom." She replied donning a new pair of gloves from her jacket pocket.  
>Scully walked past a short man with curly blond hair who appeared to be taking pictures of the crime scene. She noticed he was using a large 35mm camera. She looked at him, with a strangely disconcerting glance, as he took pictures of the blood on the wall.<p>

"I hope they find the bastards that killed Mulder."

"We don't know that he's dead."

"Yes, that's right, we don't." Sensing her increasing aggravation, he smiled politely and exited the bedroom.

Several hours passed, as darkness fell. Scully carefully looked through numerous inconclusive notes Mulder had written varying from attempts at a shopping list to a list of suspects on a case from 6 years prior.

Slowly investigators trickled out of the apartment, now singed with powder residue from specimen collectors dusting for prints, DNA samples, and the smell of blood, whether psychological or real, became completely overwhelming.

Skinner watched as crime lab personnel put the remains of Mulder's cell phone and home phone in a secure bag, carrying it out of the building. He glanced down the hall looking to see if Agent Scully was stirring.

"Did any of the neighbors hear anything?" she asked the crime scene investigator. He shrugged his shoulders and recanted his notes to Agent Scully.

"An elderly woman below this apartment says she heard something, last Wednesday or Thursday, she can't remember which day, but figured he was watching TV too loudly and turned her TV up louder. That would lead us to believe that the attack happened in the middle of the day while everyone else was at work."

"The landlord said he saw two men, who's face he didn't see, leaving the building with a full green military style duffel bag, suggesting Mulder was attacked, killed or kidnapped and transported out of the building in that bag. It's not as bizarre as it appears. It looks like he pissed off the wrong person, and whomever that person was . . . " he replied.

"That's enough. If you're done here just leave. Agent Mulder happens to be one of my best agents. I would suggest that you just shut up before you say something to piss me off Detective Johnson." Skinner said, as he opened the front door to Mulder's apartment.

Scully could still hear whispering from the living room as she picked up each pill bottle checking the remaining quantity.

"He only took one of each." She said.

"Where did everyone go? They didn't even check the bedroom."

"Scully, they were in the bedroom for more than two hours."

"Did anyone check these pills?"

"No. But, didn't you prescribe them to him?"

"Yes, but there is only one dose missing and it was filled last Monday."

"I saw Agent Mulder go into his office with the prescriptions. He'd walked from the pharmacy down the street. I'll be sure to include that in my deposition"

"Your deposition?" Scully inquired.

"Scully, I'm sorry. But as it turns out I was the last one to see Agent Mulder ali . . .." He stopped himself as he saw her expression, her resolve and calm visibly shattered into a thousand pieces.

Agent Scully, wrapped in a pensive reverie, went to his desk and stared out the window.

"Agent Scully there is nothing else that can be done here."

She sat down on Mulder's couch, put her hands in her lap and cried into them. Skinner rubbed her shoulders and stared at Mulder's trashed apartment.

_Monday 3:55 pm_  
>Location Unknown<p>

Mulder opened his eyes. All he could see was darkness. He felt like he was in a coffin. He was freezing and every inch of him hurt and burned.

Mulder felt something in his head snap, and his eyes were forced into the back of his head. He felt his body convulsing, and then he loss all control, he was choking and gasping for what seemed like an eternity, and then he felt nothing as his eyes stopped twitching.

The green luminescence in his closed eyelids diminished.

********Scully's gonna get to him...but will it be too late!********************Next update at 15 Reviews*******


	7. Chapter 7: The Discovery Part 1

**Kaltbluetig**

_Author: Jadeblueafterglow17_

**_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the X-files characters..but the rest and the story idea is mine! I wish I owned Fox Mulder...I could spend a week just exploring his eyes, rummaging his chest hair, biting those lips...wait what was I saying...oh...1013 owns'em ...DAMN!_**

**Chapter 7 - Endectung Part 1**

_Wednesday November 24_  
><em>203 N W President Street<em>  
><em>Arbor-Tree Properties Municipal Complex<em>

After a tip came in that Frank Palchak had been occupying an abandoned building and was preparing to leave town, federal agents had been out in full force for the take down. One of his trusted confidants boarded the plane for Austria before the trace could be located so he could keep his promise to his family. Agent Scully and AD Skinner were able to catch up to the assailants and get details into where the victims were being held using more unorthodox methods. Nine hours later the building was discovered.

Agent Dana Scully walked further into the dismally lit building, the dying florescent lights made it seem as though the building could be pitched into complete darkness at any minute. It had taken hours to restore electricity to the decrepit hell hole.

Dana, winded from climbing the four flights of stairs, donned a pair of prophylactics and ran her hands against the wall. The wet and moldy paint chips crumbled in her hands. She hearddistant footsteps coming towards her from the clamor of an adjacent stairwell.

The door opened, and an officer dressed in a black police uniform came towards her as she walked back towards the light of the window pane. The figure steped out of the shadow and into the rays of dusk orange sunlight.

"Is this all the light we can get from those generators?"

"Yes ma'am, we have more spotlights on the way, it will just take time."

" Did you find anyone else?" she asked.

" We didn't find anyone that could have been here the length of time the person you are looking for has been. What was it, about a week?"

"Yes, or possibly less than that. We found my partner's pajamas and underwear in a pile with the others clothing"

" Is this still considered a rescue mission, or recovery."

"Some of them may still be alive," She said.

"He was a nutcase wasn't he? I heard it took four point blank bullets before he stopped walking towards the cops." He said quietly to his partner.

"I heard he had a machine gun and opened fire. . ."

"No, he had a AK with a silencer, guy never saw him coming, shot him 6 times point blank in the back of the head."

"Will you two idiots please shut the hell up. He held up what looked like a weapon pointing it at me, and I shot him in the shoulder myself. He is not dead, there were no machine guns. " She replied dryly demonstrating.

Scully turned and walked away from him as he continued to ramble on about Arthur Frank Palchak's arraignment escape attempt, she disappeared into a dark corner of the room.

"Agent Scully, this is the last floor that we can gain immediate access to."

"This is a 6 story building." She said.

"Yes, but we've found two people on the first two floors, and on the floor below this one this one we found has been dead for days. I don't think we are going to find anyone else alive any higher up before Friday morning." He continued.

" Ma'am we have been searching this building for two days." He said, staring out the window at the approaching dusk and we don't know how stable the foundation is, this building has been deserted for 10 years . . . and . . . Agent Scully?" he beckoned.

"Tomorrow is not Friday, it's Thursday."

"Tomorrow is Thanksgiving"

"You're kidding me right?"

"It's our first Thanksgiving off with our families in 10 years on the force."

"I know it's a holiday, how would you explain to your partners wife if he were kidnapped and possibly murdered by a madman? Would you tell her you decided to call the search off for one day, because it's a holiday? To hell with the possibility of a day lapsing between when his last breath may be, and when you might have had a chance to save him. . . " Scully choked back a sob trying to escape her throat.

"Do whatever you have to do, I'm not leaving this building until I find him."  
>We are working on a lifeline timetable here. There are three people still missing that had a connection to Palchak's previous conviction; they deserve every ounce of our time and energy for them and their families to search until they are found." She shined the light on her watch. It was 4:32 p.m.<p>

"I am not leaving this building until every floor has been searched fully, and I find the other people. I'm going to look upstairs. Give me your lantern." She replied.

She refused to give up her search, even though her hope of finding her partner alive had all but vanished. She was already mourning him, trying desperately to prepare herself for the worse. The images of his face forever plastered in her memory, she could think about nothing else.

Agent Scully climbed the stairs with her lantern lighting the way. She shined the light on the brass knob on the door. She touched it to jiggle the handle and was startled to find an all too familiar dried red substance on her latex gloves. It was relatively fresh blood stains. She wiped some more flakes on her gloves, turned it inside out and put it into her pocket. She ducked her head and closed her eyes as she broke the buffered glass door.

With a crash the glass shattered and fell to the floor beside her feet. She reached in and manipulated the door lock to let her self in the room. No windows and no adjoining rooms, she stood in near darkness with her flashlight shining on the decaying walls. Scully was startled to hear a distant scurrying and squeaking noise of tiny feet coming from the room. Being a doctor of science she had seen few things that frightened her, but rats and mice were still not a welcome sight.

The floor creaked beneath her as she stepped through the years of debris left by vagrants living there. Agent Scully shined her flashlight on the walls and noticed a door. She walked towards it and turned the knob, it was locked. She looked around for something to break the knob off, but she found nothing. She stepped back and pulled her semi-automatic from behind her and pointed it at the doorknob. She cocked the gun once and fired as the knob fell off and rolled along the floor with a wobble.

Agent Scully slowly opened the door and was overwhelmed with a rancid smell. She pulled out her handkerchief and cupped it over her mouth. She walked into the room and flashed her light throughout.

Her own footsteps echoed behind her. Suddenly she heard a distant creaking as she felt the presence that she was not alone in the room, she whipped around and pointed her gun up.

"Whoa Agent Scully it's just me." The now familiar voice said.

" Did you find anyone else agent?"

" No. We are using a heat sensory detector on the building and there are several other sources of heat in this building other than those of us accounted for and two of them are human form. But the two objects on the scope are considerably colder, than our images and are growing colder as we speak. Unfortunately we are unable to pinpoint their exact location. But we know they aren't very close together.

" That means they are probably still alive. But you said only three." She sighed.

"That's right . . . there isn't a third heat source."

Agent Scully glanced at her watch, it was 5:00p.m. and they had been searching for 12 hours straight now.

"You know, I think if you are put in a mental institution that they should chain you to your bed for however long it takes to make you normal. They shouldn't let you have contact with the outside world, that way you can't find people to do your dirty work for you so you can go back to doing the same crap you got arrested for."

Agent Scully ignored his mindless chatter. As she stumbled through the dimly lit room searching for clues, anything that might lead her two the three other victims, and more importantly her partner and best friend of seven years.

Suddenly, Agent Scully heard a faint noise coming from behind her.

"I hear something beeping." She said as she flashed her light on the walls beside her the three beeps continued.

"I don't hear anything."

"Shush!" she demanded.

The deputy detective crept around the room listening for the double beeps.  
>He fell to his knees " I hear it. It's coming from the floor." He said as Scully followed him with a flashlight. She looked at the floor and saw a ventilation shaft. Suddenly the beeping stopped. She peered into the criss-cross pattern vent in the floor. The door creaked behind her. The two looked up at the intruder.<p>

"Sir . . . We found a man downstairs, he is still alive Paramedics are on the way."  
>The officer announced as Agent Knight and Scully briskly walked towards him and followed him down the stairs.<p>

Agent Scully took a deep breath as she walked towards the body the men had recovered.

"Paramedics are on their way up."

She could hear herself breathing as silence surrounded her. Her footsteps echoed in her ears, her heart raced as though she'd been running a marathon. She swallowed hard as she knelt beside the man whose face she could not see. The men stepped away from him. The man's hair was dark, and his features were pale and fair. One of the police officers removed the suddenly blood stained make shift bandage that was covering his face, and was startled to find the man's face swollen, beaten and bruised black and blue beyond recognition. Before she looked at his face, she picked up the young mans hand, and felt the last bit of warmth draining from his body. She pursed her index and middle finger against his neck. His pulse was slow but steady. She slowly glanced up to look at his unrecognizably bruised face. She swallowed deeply again, and turned away from him. She gently pried apart his mouth and began listening for breath sounds. Scully looked at his right hand, and wiggled the five fingers in her hand.

" Agent Scully, is this the man you were looking for? Is this your partner, Agent Mulder?" he asked.

She took a passing breath as she lifted her head and turned to listen to the next barrage of intruders into her thoughts.

"No, It's not him." She replied ruefully. She felt relieved and disappointed at the same time.  
>Agent Scully used the flashlight to pry his battered eyelid apart. Pupils are fixed and dilated, he's hypothermic, and altered. Pulse is 70 . . . breath sounds are faint . . . start warming blankets at 120 degrees; Radio another paramedic back to the scene before you leave." She said as she began to walk towards the door past the paramedics.<p>

"Agent Scully?" Someone beckoned as she went past them and up the stairs.  
>She heard footsteps follow her up the stairs. Someone reached and grabbed her arm as she swept her hand from his grasp. She turned and looked at the man.<p>

"Agent Scully . . ."

"Sir, I'm sorry I didn't know it was you."

She turned back to look at him, her eyes saddened by the thoughts of not finding  
>her partner, of eight years, alive.<p>

"Did you find any clues?" she shook her head no. "No, of course you didn't . . . you wouldn't still be here if you did." He said to himself smoothing his hands down her arms.

They walked into the room on the third floor again.

***************Please review! Don't just read...Tell me what you think good or bad!***************


	8. Chapter 8: Discovery Part II

**Author:Jadeblueafterglow17**

**Disclaimer: Not Mine...belong to Fox...and Chris Carter, but obviously Bones, Fringe, and others have no problems stealing from them!**

Chapter 8

_**"Entdectung" (The Discovery Part II)**_

After securing the other victim, Agent Scully returned to the third floor where she'd previously seen the mice and heard the strange noises.

"What is it Agent Scully?"

"Shhh." "There is something or someone in there." Scully pulled on the crate covering the decrepit ventilation shaft in the floor.

The officer flashed a light into the small holes of the wire grating.

"You're right. Dorsey, . . . go get those wire cutters, and call the paramedics up here." The officer jiggled the covering loose with little effort as Agent Scully watched behind the men.

The opening was no greater than the size of a sewer manhole. Perhaps this was what Palchak wanted his victim to feel like he was in. Officer Dorsey returned with the wire cutters as, the officer reached in and touched the cold damp flesh.

"He's kinda cold, maybe he's alive. I think I just touched his back. The officer realized what they were standing on was a prefabricated material as he used the cutters to rip away the floor. "Stand back! Dorsey help me gut out this floor."

Agent Scully stood behind them, as the paramedics walked in with a collapsed gurney  
>And watched the men rip through the floor with wire cutters and other small hand tools.<br>Scully looked at her watch. It had been 5 hours since Frank Palchak's chronie admitted to the where-about of his latest victims. Agent Scully knew they were in the right place, but they were running out of time. She recalled how ill Agent Mulder was before his kidnapping, there was no way to tell what condition he would be in if he were found alive.

Frank Palchak was back in jail with plenty of charges stacked against him. This time guaranteeing him atleast life in prison. But if Mulder was already dead what resolve was there?. . . the loss of her partner, and quite possibly the true passion of her life? Then again, this person they were uncovering before her eyes, may not be him at all. There were at least six other persons reported missing from their families, including a juror and the lawyer who prosecuted Frank Palchak in his previous trial.

"We need some blankets, and get that stretcher over here. "Hang in there buddy we're gonna get you out of here." Agent Scully leaned down and reached in the opening to feel for a pulse.

"Femoral pulse is weak and thready." She could see his hands tied behind his un-clothed body. She reached for his bloody hand and held it in her gloved hand. She was still unable to see his face. She didn't have to. She knew the moment she touched him, the man she'd discovered buried in the floor was her partner, Fox Mulder.

They broke through enough of the floor, placed a brace down in the opening, to snap around his neck, and began to roll him over to face them. His eyes, and mouth were covered with silver duct tape. His face, beaten black and blue and bruised beyond recognition, revealed days old blood stretched across his broken nose.

Scully let go of his hand while the paramedics and Officer Dorsey carefully lifted him from the ventilation shaft. Scully was unable to see the rest of his body as she noticed the tiny bite marks on his neck, arms and back.

"Okay, guys take it real slow."

They lifted him up carefully and laid him on a board on his left side. Officer Dorsey cut the bloody razor wire from his ankles and then from his wrists, as they laid the motionless body on the support board.; handing the wire to agent Scully to put in an evidence bag. They covered him up to his waist in a sheet and wrapped him up in a blanket.

"Agent Scully, is this your guy?" she said as a camera started clicking. A forensics agent began taking pictures of the recovered body.

She stared at him, still not believing what this man had obviously put her partner through.  
>"Yes, it's him."<p>

She looked furiously up at the camera man. She stood up and covered the photographers lens.

"No more pictures …"

"I'm just doing my job Agent Scully, these pictures might help the case against the people who are responsible for this." he continued to click his camera at various angles.  
>Scully stood up and snatched the camera away from him.<p>

" I said no more pictures, go find something else to photograph damn it!" she demanded. The man stood there defending his ground momentarily but realized quickly that Agent Scully would win this fight. She glared at him, her expression stone cold, as he walked away.

Agent Scully leaned down over the recovered man, and listened to his chest.  
>She whispered into his ear.<p>

"Mulder, It's Scully, I'm going to get you out of here. You're going to be okay."  
>The paramedic took out a stethoscope and listened to his chest.<p>

"Lungs are full of fluid we need to in-tubate him," he said putting an O2  
>mask on his mouth and nose.<p>

"Trach kit and in-tu-bation kit are in the cab."

"Do we have anything that can remove this tape, don't want to rip the skin off."

"Let me see if I can just cut down the middle so we can get an airway."

"No, you might cut him. Here, just let me do it. After all he's been through he probably won't feel it anyway."

The officer quickly ripped the tape off of his mouth.

Mulder was motionless. As his lips slid open, Scully noticed something in his mouth. She pulled the paramedic aside and reached to open his mouth, She stuck her gloved hand in and was disgusted to find, the remains of a small mouse inside, as well as what appeared to be dried vomit as she cleared his mouth out.

"Sick!" Someone mumbled.

"Somebody have some water?" A paramedic handed her a bottle of sterile saline, and cloth to wash out his mouth. His bottom jaw hung to the right, broken and dripping blood.  
>They put him on the stretcher, tied him to the gurney with cloth straps; preparing to take him down the stairs.<p>

Agent Scully gathered her flashlight and radio and headed down the three dark flight of stairs behind them. Midway down the stairs, a faint, shallow wheezing could be heard echoing through the stairwell. The sound multiplied as rapid wheezing now accompanied the sound.

" Wait!" Scully shouted as she shined her flashlight in his face. "He can't breathe, Where is the intubation tray?

" We can't do that in the stairs. We'll have to bag him till we get to the cab." There's only a few more flights." He said as Agent Mulder continued to wheeze shallow breaths. Scully went down in front of them now. She ran down the stairs, and stood outside the building. The sky had turned to the colors of twilight as she ran past the yellow "police-do not cross tape." She opened the doors of the ambulance and rummaged through their cases, as the sounds of cameras clicking, and a barrage of questions could be heard from nearby.

"Agent Scully, did you find anyone?"

" Is there anyone alive in the building?"

" Have you located Agent Fox Mulder?"

" Is the District Attorney alive?"

Scully ignored the voices as she put on a fresh pair of latex gloves, and ripped the sterile tubing from the box. She peered out the door as the policemen and paramedics coming towards the ambulance. One of the paramedics jumped in the cab and directed the gurney into the back.

"He stopped breathing."

"I'm going to intubate him….unless."

"Go ahead…, Now!" Scully advised.

The paramedic pulled agent Mulder's lips apart and slowly guided a thick plastic tube down his throat.

"I'll stay here agent Scully and search for others." Officer Dorsey advised to deaf ears.

" His trachea is swollen shut, this is gonna be a tight fit. I can't get the tube down far enough to do any good. I've never done a cricothyroid in the field have you?"

"No don't cut him!" She exclaimed.

"No, let me try to squeeze the trach tube in." Almost with the ease of a master surgeon, Agent Scully guided the trachea tube into his mouth, and just over his wind pipe.

"I'll bag him." Agent Scully said grabbing the amber bag and covering his mouth."

"BP 70/30. Body temp is 90. Radio ahead for more warming blankets, and keep track of downtime on O2.

They soon arrived at the Emergency entrance of Bethesda Naval Hospital. They lifted the lifeless body of Fox Mulder from the cab a nurse and doctor emerged from the ambulance bay.

" What have we got?"

"Hypothermic male, late 30's, pupils fixed and dilated, unresponsive to pain, rough intubation in field, multiple contusions, bony perforations midline, multiple rib fractures, he's cyanotic, blunt head trauma, visible swelling behind eye wall, upper right femur min gangrene."

" LOC time?"

"Don't know been buried in a hole for days - name is Mulder, Fox Mulder, missing FBI agent. GCS 4, V-1 E-1 M-2, chest."

Agent Scully walked beside the gurney. It had been some years since she heard the barrage of medical jargon, but she remembered hearing the phrase GCS, as a statement of consciousness level. She knew that anything less than 8 was not good.

She bit her bottom lip, and let go of Mulder's limp hand.

"My God, what happened to this guy?" an orderly asked.

"Another torture victim, you know the weirdo from Chenoweth . . . "

"I hope they fry him."

The nurse replied as she ran with the gurney into the trauma  
>room. Agent Scully followed closely behind them, oblivious to their remarks.<p>

"This is his partner agent Scully of the FBI, she's also his doctor."

"Chelsea get Dr…Scully a gown….." the nurse requested as agent Scully's cell phone rang.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Scully but we don't allow those phones in here." One of the residents insisted. They began to rattle off a series of battery and began inserting a Foley catheter. Dana took off the sterile robe and stood outside the trauma doors. The phone registered AD Skinner's number. She choked back her emotion before she felt an overwhelming need to burst into tears.

"Scully."

"Agent Scully where are you? Did you find Mulder?"

Agent Scully swallowed hard, and stepped back from the ER doors.

"Agent Scully?"

"Yes . . . sir I found him."

"Is he alright?"

"He's alive sir, but . . . it doesn't look good. That monster really did a number on him."

"Where are you?"

" . . . Bethesda."

"I'm on my way." He said as the phone went dead. Scully looked up to see 2 nurses running with pints of blood, towards the trauma room. She walked in behind them. She could hear a long dismal tone.  
>***********************************************************************************************************<p>

_** Well, Scully has him now...are you happy? I update faster with more reviews... Next chapter is already done, so its all up to you! Thanks for reading click review! And thank the person who finally submitted the 20th review!**_


	9. Chapter 9: The Dance We Do

**Kaltbluetig ( In Cold Blood)**

_**Author: Jadeblueafterglow17**_

**Disclaimers: Thanks to Chris Carter and Fox for the wonderful characters Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and Walter Skinner...I love them to pieces.**

The Discovery Part III Bethesda Naval Hospital

_Chapter 9 - The Dance We Do_

"What happened?"

"He was bradying down, we tried to establish a central line and his heart stopped beating."

"Pressure's still dropping 85."

"I may have damaged this poor guy's lung, we're not gonna be able to crack the chest without surgery's sternal saw." One of the interns replied as he was quickly nudged in the side.

"Alright people charge again . . . set to 300…and clear" he stepped back watching as Mulder's body leapt slightly from his gurney. They waited briefly as a heart beat returned, and slowly steadied.

"We got a rhythm at . . . " Pressure's still dropping." A nurse held up a bag full of red fluid and whispered to get the doctor's attention.

"Pulse-ox is 75 on 100% O2."

"75? He'll be brain dead in 5 minutes, get me an airway, crich him."

" Where in the hell are those X-rays?" the doctor exclaimed.

"Body temperature is 97 and rising."

"Get some ice on that thigh, maybe we can save that leg."

"Call the OR, tell them to prep for a laparotomy. Call Neuro tell them we've got a crash case situation and get a surgeon over to the OR, and no bs." He said to a nurse as she scurried down the hall to the desk. Agent Scully moved in closer to see the bag of red fluid in the catheter vat.

" He has edema in his abdomen and chest cavity." Scully sighed heavily.

"Hmmm, afraid so, mostly blood. We'll find out where its coming from . . . before it gets any worse."

"X-rays are back. . ." a woman shouted sticking the films on a lighted screen.

"Oh Mulder. . ." she whispered to herself.

"Patient has pleura edema in both lung cavities, possible endo-carditis. Prep for tension pneumo."

"Dr. Weston, surgery wants to know if he's stable enough for transport?"

"Yes, as stable as he's gonna get…take him up now. Dr. Scully would you like to assist, I'm sure I could get you temporary hospital privileges."

"Unfortunately, I already have privileges here. No, I don't want to get in the way."

"Have you notified his family."

"He has no living relative. I have power of attorney" She interjected somberly.

"Dr. Scully we will do the very best we can to help your partner." The doctor said as they watched three staff members usher Agent Mulder down the hall and into an elevator.

"Where are you taking him?" Agent Scully asked, following them.

"1st Floor West. There is a waiting area on the east side."

The elevator ride up to the next floor was silent with the exception of Mulder's heartbeat on the monitor, and the sounds of the respirator breathing for him.

Once they reached the 1st floor, Scully stepped beside and stood by the doors of the OR.  
>A surgeon and nurse in scrubs emerged and headed towards her.<p>

"Agent Scully?"

"Yes,"

"I'm Dr. Ferrell, this is nurse Wilcox. I spoke with Dr. Weston about your partner. We need for you to sign these consent forms, so we can proceed." He handed her a clipboard filled with forms to sign.

"Does he have any allergies?"

"Yes, Phenytoin, Compazine and a topical sensitivity to Ceftriaxone."

Agent Scully took the forms and headed to the waiting room. She took 65 cents from her small black bag and began to deposit it into the coffee machine. She stared at the cup filling with the hot black liquid.

"Agent Scully. . ." echoed a voice from the hallway. She looked up and acknowledged his presence. " I sent Agents Fitzpatrick and Gams to investigate the rest of the building, including the location where you found agent Mulder." He said sitting next to her. Agent Scully was listening but not hearing the words he said.

"I'm sorry, I know it's selfish of me, but sir I can't think about that right now."

"How is Mulder, I mean where is he now?"

"They just took him into surgery. His heart stopped beating, there was fluid around his lungs causing, the tissue around his heart to swell." she rambled off information quicker than she herself could even process it.

"For now his condition is very critical. He's not breathing on his own, and he's completely un-responsive."

"What does that mean for his outlook, do they think he is going to be alright?"  
>She looked him in the eyes. "It means, if he survives, they don't know if Mulder will ever regain consciousness, and even if he does he may be a vegetable. His brain has sustained traumatic injury and has gone without oxygen for an undetermined amount of time" Scully stared at the floor, while blindly stirring her coffee.<p>

"I'm sorry agent Scully. I can't believe this is all happening. I should have stayed with him, I made him go home . . . I sent him to his death. Even after something told me not to leave him…to make sure he was safely in his apartment, I ignored it, this could have been prevented."

"You did not send him to his death, he is not dead."

"I shouldn't have left him, I should have listened to my conscience and stayed to make sure he was okay."

"We could literally "What if" ourselves to death. There are so many variables."

"I contributed to this entire situation. I mean if I hadn't prescribed medicine that would knock him out, he

might have been able to fight back or escape. I should have called someone to check on him when I couldn't reach him at any of his phone numbers. God!, if I had just listened to my own gut feelings, when all of this was probably happening I felt sick to my stomach, all I could think about was Mulder."

"How were you to know something like this could be happening?"

"I kept having this repetitive dream about doing an autopsy on an unidentified man, each night it would add another piece to the puzzle and then I would wake up. The very last time was the night I returned home, and I was finally able to identify the man. It was Mulder."

"There is no way you could have known this would happen from that scenario. That's not symbolic of what happened."

" It doesn't matter what it symbolized, because I didn't do a damn thing about it. It's funny, but when he asked me to write him a prescription, he said it's time like this he really hated being alone."

"There was nothing you could have done, if you would have been here, who's to say they wouldn't have kidnapped or killed you? Palchak had been plotting his act of revenge for nearly 10 years. I believe that there were contributing variables that may have helped his plan go more smoothly, but in the end, Mulder was destined to go through this for a reason. I just hope I have the chance to make it up to him. If he dies, I'll never be able to forgive myself."

Scully was silent, as she placed her hands over her face whimpering. Skinner pulled her close to his chest and gently stroked her hair.

Agent Scully awakened to a gentle tap on her shoulder, as A.D Skinner handed her a styrofoam cup with black coffee. She sat up straight and glanced at her watch, flipping it along her thin wrist to view the face. 1a.m.

"It's been 6 hours…has the doctor been back out here?"

"No, the nurse came over to offer you a pillow, but no other word so far"  
>Agent Scully ran her fingers through her Auburn locks headed towards the SICU nurses desk.<p>

"Excuse me….."

"Yes, ma'am?

"My name is Dr. Dana Scully, I need to check the status of a patient that should be out of surgery, his name is Fox Mulder."

"Just a moment." The receptionist replied looking through the doctors orders.  
>She then swung her chair over towards the computer to look up his name.<p>

"Are you his doctor?

"Yes, I am…..where is he?" Scully demanded?

"I need to add your name to the chart."

"Please, just tell me where he is,…..'

The receptionist reached into a box and grabbed several sterile garments, walking beside a frustrated Scully, as she held up the gown, that Dana quickly put her hands through, she donned a pair of gloves and a mask.

"Fox Mulder is in the SICU, he was too critical to release to Recovery." If you go through those double doors and press the button, the nurses will let you in. She turned around to glance at Walter Skinner.

"I'll stay here agent Scully."

She continued her eager but slightly hesitant stride through the double doors, hearing her own breath and footsteps as she made her way into the open Intensive Care Unit. There were beds in every corner, with young and old bodies hooked up to ventilators, beeping machines and sacks of various tinted colored fluids draining into their lifeless bodies. Scully glanced at a woman, who'd obviously been there for some time, as she lay her head beside a man sleeping, someone had placed a blanket on her shoulders. She glanced again, but staring at the sickly faces of the patients in the room, she was unable to recognize any of them as her partner. She walked up to a nurse wearing dark green scrubs with matching cap and booties.

"I'm looking for my patient, Fox William Mulder, the lady at the desk said…"  
>The nurse pointed towards two rooms with sliding glass doors.<p>

"He's in room 3A Dr. Scully." She replied, Agent Scully wondered how she already knew her name, perhaps Dr. Ferrel advised the nurses ahead of time to avoid confusion.

" …and his chart…?"

"It's on the door as you walk in."

"Thanks."

Agent Scully peeked through the textured glass to see a man with bandages on his face and limbs, still fresh with red blood stains. She tried to look away as she removed the chart from his door, feeling someone staring at her, she glanced through the window and looked at the three nurses who had now gathered together and were politely staring at Agent Scully as she opened the door to his room. At first glance she wondered if she was in the right room, as she glanced down at the chart in her hands staring at the blood tinged bandages of the individual in the bed.

**Reviews Welcome Appreciated and Adored...Suggestions Praised and Devoured!**


	10. Chapter 10: Hope Therapy

Author: Jadeblueafterglow17

**Title: Kaltbluetig (In Cold Blood )**

Disclaimer: Owned by Fox, Chris Carter...and the amazing characters are all theirs.

_Note: Out of ideas...Maybe when I have new ideas. Maybe I will write a sequel...but for now its done. Please Review!_

_Chapter 10: Hope Therapy  
><em>  
>******************************************************************************************************************************<p>

_Fox Mulder sat in the bleachers of a large empty basketball stadium. He barely noticed the persistent breeze that shrieked through his hospital gown. He glanced down at the basketball team on the court. As his eyes focused he noticed the team jersey. He wiped his tired eyes and wondered where he'd found time to check out a Knicks game. He glanced up at the scoreboard the score was Knicks 121 Celtics 118, with 3 seconds remaining in the last period. He watched as number 13 made a sprint up the court, and shot another bank shot, increasing their lead again. He heard the crowd began to count down the time till the game clock expired,_

_"3 …2 …1…" he felt his heart began to pound in his ears, his hands start to tremor as he joined in the count with them._

_He felt an overwhelming warm sensation come over him, then warmer, and then very hot as, he closed his eyes for a moment he could hear the sound of familiar voices in the distance. His chest started to hurt and burn from the inside out, as he grabbed his chest and fell to his knees. He opened his eyes, to find himself surrounded by fire. He immediately tensed up, feeling the flames within arms reach of him. All that he could see was a wall of fire as he turned in every direction. In the instance the fire had seemed to appear, it was as quick that an opening appeared a cool refreshing wave of light chilled his skin, as he went towards it. His chest didn't burn anymore, he did not feel the flames at his feet, but he could now hear voices, familiar voice. As the cool light embraced him, it enveloped him in an ember of blue flame._

_"Fox, you must fight, you must survive; so much depends on you." the male voice said._

_"Who's there?" Mulder mouthed, but his voice was silent, as he stared in the direction of the voice, unable to see the figure through the bright lights. "…wait please don't leave me, who are you?" Mulder closed his eyes and could hear the sound of his heart beating slowly and then more steadily in his ears._

"Charging to 350!"

"Wait, we've got a rhythm." Mulder heard clearly as he felt his body give into exhaustion and his mind going completely blank.

"Heart rate steadying 70bpm, 75 … I think we got him back."

"Good work Dr. Scully" Another physician exclaimed, as Dana wiped the sweat from her brow.

"What happened?" Dana exclaimed " He was fine a minute ago."

"I'm not sure. I've seen it happen that quickly before, but usually in older patients who've been sick a long time. Looks like his body was just giving up."

"Put the monitors back on his temple; let's see if we shocked some life back into him" The nurse rolled up the sleeve on her lavender scrub jacket. She re-attached four small electrode wires to the open patches on his temples. Nurse flipped the switch and stood back watching as Dr. Griggs, Ferrel & Scully.

The hope drained from their faces, turning to frustration as they stared at the flat teal blue line on the charcoal gray screen. The nurse looked at the screen and hit it with her fist momentarily knocking it off line. Like magic, three separate lines came back.

Back from the brink of death again. It'd been three days of this. Mulder's tortured body unable to sustain itself. Scully going against his wishes keeping him alive even though he had made no attempt to join the world of the living as his body struggled to heal. When he'd given her power of attorney over his life he knew she could make the decision when he was suffereing and knew he would not want to be kept alive with machines. But here she was doing exactly what he'd had not wanted. Prolonging his suffering, his attachment to this hellinsh nightmare because Dana Scully loved this man and could not let him go.  
>********************************************************************************************<p>

Hours later Dana Scully had been lulled into a light dose as the beeping and wooshing of the machines that kept Fox Mulder alive gave her some comfort. She clung desperately to his battered fingers cool to the touch but still evidence that life in him still existed.

Footsteps fell in the room but when unnoticed a shadow briefly loomed over Scully's sleeping frame before slowly making their way over towards the patient in the bed.

An audible gasp was heard as the person apprached the bed. A hand gently touched the bandages over his head, the tape covering his eyes to keep them closed. That same hand placed a gentle kiss from her finge tips on each wound on each scar and bandage and dried a tear drop that fell from their face onto his his chest.

"Mom?" a raspy voice whispered. Margaret Scully quickly wiped at tears as she turned to see her daughte sitting in the chair.

"Dana, sweetheart...I'm so sorry...I can't believe this happened, poor Fox..." Scully fell into her mother's arms unable to stop the gut wrenching sobs that consumed her small frame as her mother held her tight.

1 week later

Dana closed the door to his ICU suite and turned off the overhead lighting. She let down the shades, trying to ignore the stares of pity from the hospital personnel out in the hall. All that remained was the small clear white light from the lamp above, and the lights from the EKG, monitor and respirators reflecting blue on his pale body. She glanced over at the machine steadied heart rhythms and insignificant lines of brain activity, and climbed up onto his hospital bed curled up beside him laid her head on his chest and sighed.

"I stayed up all night thinking of what words I could fathom saying to you knowing it would be the last time I would ever see your face. I know you've been with me through this all. I could feel you sitting beside me . . . your arms wrapped around me; the feel of your warm breath on my neck as your head lay on my shoulder. I knew you were there, comforting my guilty conscience. I continue my prayer for a miracle, one that is not destined to happen. I'm afraid you were saying your goodbye, or wanting me to let you go, after you've suffered all this time. I know I've been selfish and I've failed you Mulder." Scully wiped the tears from her cheek.

"If you've taught me anything it was to trust my instincts. My instincts told me not to leave you, they begged me for compassion when all I could give you was sarcasm, when inside I wanted so deeply to take you with me. You were so sick, vulnerable and exhausted. I might as well have killed you myself - I left you to die, in a horrible way, tortured, beaten, and alone. If the roles were reversed you would have stopped at nothing to assure my well being. No apology could make up for that, but I'm so sorry Mulder. I should have been here; I should have taken care of you. I made a promise to myself that I would never let you suffer or die alone, no family no friends by your side, and although I'm here now with your body, I feel as though your spirit, your soul was freed of this suffering before I ever found you, perhaps the only comfort I've found in feeling you so close to me when you are so far away. I wonder thoughtlessly what words escaped your lips as your life was taken from you. Did you call out for me, did your hope that I would somehow find you falter, did you hear my thoughts as I searched for you, hoping for the chance to be your hero?"

"As I lay there thinking of you, seeing your face, staring into your eyes, so concerned and so honest you told me you loved me, as if knowing those would be the last words you'd ever speak to me and I dismissed you. You don't deserve this. I deserve to lose you because those words I could never utter to you, albeit I felt the same and could think of no man I have loved more sovereignly, deeply and silently than you. I was always so worried about what loving you would mean . . . whether it would further de-bunk what discoveries we'd made, when all the while it was so clear to me. Blindly I followed you around case to case, not lured by the motivating chance to prove you wrong, but because I couldn't imagine my life without you being in it anymore, I just didn't want to."

"You are a part of my life, and it's (her voice broken by momentary loss of composure) killing me that you left your life in my hands, after you suffered . . . the loss of your entire family, admonishment of your life's work, and the only way I can stop the hurt for you is to let you go." She looked up at his face, stroking his hair, seeing his face as she last remembered despite the bruises and bandages that stared back at her. Gently she kissed his forehead, her tears landing on his cheek.

"They say you can't really love somebody, till you love them enough to let them go. It seems these clichés had a reason to be made, I'm sorry my love came too late, but I had to let you know. I love you Fox Mulder, I love you so much, and I wish I had time, just more time to make things right."

After a few moments of disheveling silence she said sitting up and reaching to turn off his heart monitors button by button, and taking the monitor pads off his temple. Her hands shook as she glanced at his face, and turned the respirator off. She watched as the air being pumped in and out of his lungs stopped. Gently she pulled the tube out of his throat, removing the tape from his mouth. She took the bandages off of his eyes, still swollen she had to see the hazel depths one last time. Dana kissed him softly on the lips. His motionless body, pale and thin, felt warm to the touch.

Dana laid her head down on his chest tears flowing down her cheek, she listened to his soft heartbeat. For moments there was nothing but the echo of the beat in her ears. She kept waiting for that beat to speed up with the loss of oxygen.

She covered him up to his neck and turned off the light above him. She sat down in the chair next to his bed, and grasped his hand. No sound in the room except her shallow breathing and the hum of the electricity running through the a/c.

After a few minutes had passed, and his heart beat was still steady, she raised her head to look at his face, her face donned a look of unbridled awe, for in less than a blink of an eye, a ghostly sound pierced the air. Mulder's body gasped for air, once, and then again, coughing between breaths. Scully leapt up to turn the light on above him. She sat on the bed beside him and watched his lips as air struggled to pass between them.

"Yes Mulder that's it, breathe, please breathe, God please, breathe." she begged smiling through her tears. She reached up and turned on the oxygen on behind his head. Gently placing the cup over his mouth. She pushed the button for the nurse.

"Yes?"

"Get Dr. Ferrel in here right now."

"Yes, ma'am"  
>Scully frantically scurried about the room reconnecting the equipment to his chest and temple. With a flip of the switch his vitals returned to the screen.<p>

"Dr. what's wrong, I see you hooked him back up to the life support.:

"No, no I didn't…I took it off and he started gasping for air."

"That's normal, it will stop once his heart stops.

"The heart pacer is gone, and the vent is off. Shhhhsh….do you hear that, his heart is steady, look at his chest, he's breathing, he's breathing, he's fighting."

Skeptically, the nurse walked up and removed the oxygen cup from his face. Mulder continued to breathe shallowly. She grabbed a stethoscope from a kit in the drawer beside his monitor computers and listened to his chest, in three places. Scully continued to hold his hand in hers, a deathgrip which in an instant was let go.

Mulder's hand had a spasm, as his hand twitched. His hand jumped and the monitors on his brain waves were no longer solid signal beeps, they were pacing in multiple varied lines.

Dr. Ferrel arrrived in time to see the lines on the EKG machine change and hear the shuddering breaths being pulled in by his patient. Scully stared at him warily with baited breath praying that this was not just a phase of death, she couldn't take watching Mulder draw his last breath when he seemed so alive. Dr. Ferrel removed the oxygen mask and looked into his eyes as his pupils shrank in size.

He looked at agent Scully, removed his glasses and his face was filled with an unusual mix of emotions; the doctor replaced the oxygen mask and requested a CT scan, and the veil of emotions was lifted as he turned to Agent Scully and put his hand on her shoulder and smiled.  
>*********************************************************************************************<p>

**The End - **

Hope you enjoyed It. I will be working on Part II over the next month or so. Your feedback decides if the story continues. So Please light me up with some reviews or flames...I don't care just tell me what you think.


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